CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(Monographs) 


ICIMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microropro'Juctions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


996 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


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Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 

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Couverture  endommagee 

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\1 


AddWonal  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires: 


Pagination  is  as  follows  :   [6],  i-[xl],  11-1M  p. 


This  ittm  is  f  ilmad  at  the  rtduction  ratio  chackad  below/ 

Ct  documant  att  f  ilmi  au  taux  da  rMuction  indiqui  c«-dassot». 


10X 

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Th«  copy  filmed  hara  has  baan  raproducad  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  filmi  fut  raproduit  grica  *  la 
g*n4rositi  da: 

Bibllotheque  nationals  du  Canada 


Tha  imagas  appearing  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
possibia  considaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacif leationa. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  ara  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
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sion,  or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  imprec- 
sion,  and  ending  on  the  last  pege  «with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frana  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  «^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  ▼  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  images  suivantas  ont  *t*  raproduitas  avec  la 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tenu  de  Is  condition  st 
de  Is  netteti  de  I'exemplaire  filmA,  at  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
fiimaga. 

Lee  exempleires  originaux  dont  la  couvarturs  an 
papier  est  imprimis  sont  film«s  en  commen^ant 
par  la  premier  plat  at  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
darniire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreintc 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplairas 
origifiaux  sont  filmte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiAre  pege  qui  comporte  une  emprainta 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  at  en  terminant  par 
la  darnlAra  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
darniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  -^^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE ',  le 
symbols  ▼  signifie  "FIN". 


Mapa,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  retios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  ara  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom,  as  many  frames  ss 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Lea  cartas,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  pauvent  dtre 
filmAs  A  das  taux  de  riduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atra 
raproduit  an  un  seul  clichi,  il  est  film*  A  psrtir 
de  Tangle  supirieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  baa,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imeges  nAcessaire.  Las  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mithoda. 


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2 

L.    ._ 

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6 

MICTOCOrv   RESOIUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A    APPLIED  IN/UGE 


1653  Eost  Main  Street 

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IN    THE   OTHER   MAN'S   PLACE 


IN  THE  OTHER  MANS 
PLACE 

SOME    LATTER    DAY 
TRAGEDIES    IN   VERSE 


Bt 


Oeorge  Graham  Currie 


THE  DREW  PRESS 

JACKSONVILLE,  FLORIDA 

MCMXI 


F5  3 SOS 
li'Vl  I  C 


Entered   accora.ng  to   Act   of   Congress,   in   the   year 
lyn,    by   George   Graham    Currie, 


according  to   Act   of 


in 


,..-.,  -.   —   the   office 

of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


PREFACE. 

"Fair  floweret,  blooming  where  no  gardener  strays, 
The  one  pure  spark  that  makes  mankind  divine, 
The  pe?rl  that  is  not  thrown  away  on  swine 
Sweet  Sympathy,  inspirer  of  immortal  lays'  ' 
Thou  touch  of  nature  that  proves  all  earth  kin 
That  urges  poets  sing  the  daisy's  praise 
That  points  the  sluggard  to  the  ant's  wise  ways 
And  whispers  to  the  sportsman:  'this  is  sin-' 
Make  thou  thy  home  within  my  warring  breast; 
Teach  me  to  love  my  neighbor  as  myself-  ' 
I  fain  would  do,  with  greater,  truer  zest, 

The  deeds  that  are  not  bought  with  vulgar  pelf  ■ 
Be  thou  my  guide  when  shame-tossed  brothers  cry 
That  X  may  share  the  load  that  makes  them  sigh  " 


lyHEN  in  my  twenty-first  year  I  was  about  to 
leave  my  Eastern  home  for  the  far  West  I 
handed  an  autograph  album  to  my  father,  and 
asked  him  to  write  therein  such  general  advice 
as  he  would  want  me  to  follow  through  life,  if  it 
should  happen  to  be  the  last  time  he  would  have  an 
opportunity  of  so  advising  me.  In  about  a  week's  time 
he  returned  the  book  to  me  and  I  found  written  over 
his  name  the   following  precept: 

"In    judging   always    put   yourself 
in  the  other  man's  place." 

I  have  tried  to  live  up  to  this  paternal  admonition 
and  this  volume  published  twenty-three  years  after  is 
a  direct  result.  The  stories  that  follow  go  into  the 
details  of  the  white  slave  traffic,  of  lynching  bees,  of 
strikes  and  boycotts  and  are  striven  to  be  told  from  the 
possible  standpoints  of  the  victim. 

The  Author. 


CONTENTS 


THE  SEAMY  SIDE  OF  STRIKES;  or,  THREE 
GLIMPSES  AT  THE  LIFE  OF  A  LONDON 
LABOR  LEADER 5 

ADVERTISEMENT  7 

Part  I.     Comfort jj 

The  Committee  Meeting  at  Smith's  home    11 

Tom  Smith's  maiden  speech 11-18 

Motion  to  go  on  strike  carried  and  Smith 

nominated  to  inform  Masters 19 

"Big  Ben"  chimes I9 

"The  Midnight  Hour" 19 

Annie    Smith 20-21 

The  Smiths'  home 21-23 

The  kitchen 21 

The  dining  lOom 21 

The  parlor 22 

The  bedroom 22 

A  cup  of  tea 23 

Woman's  Life 23-24 

Infancy    24 

Girlhood    24 

Beloved    24 

Wifehood    25 

Maternity    25 

Why  Annie  and  Tom  are  happy 26 

Part  II.     Poverty 29 

The  pawnshop 29 

The  birth  of  Tom's  baby 30 

The  labor  meeting 3I 

Tom's  second  speech 33-43 

The  Labor  Leader's  Song 43 

i 


Part  III.    Despair ^^ 

The  wedding  ring  pawned 47 

The  doctor "  ao 

The  baby's  death 49 

The  desolate  home 51 

Voiceless   grief ^q 

The  cold,  cruel  world 52 

A  London  thunder  storm 53 

Recrimination    53 

Hist!    to   Big   Ben 54 

They  jump  to  death 55 

The  Song  That  "Big  Ben"  Sings...!!.  56 


HELEN,  A  STORY  OF  FOUR  PARTINGS....     59 

ADVERTISEMENT  g^ 

INTRODLCTION   ...  .. 

w 

Part  I.     The  Parting  from  Home g; 

1.  "Goodbye." 

2.  The  adoption  of   Helen. 

3.  The  Merchant. 

4.  The  Merchant's  Wife 

5.  "Redfern." 

6.  Helen's  education. 

7.  Helm's  reputation. 

8.  The  gash  of  the  gossip. 

9.  Helen's  search  for  her  mother. 
10.  Her  search  rewarded. 


Part  II. 


If 


The  Parting  from  Husband 77 

1.  The  wild  and  woolly  West. 

2.  Helen's  reception  in  a  mining  camp. 


II 


3. 
4. 
5. 
6. 
7. 
8. 
9. 
10. 


Her  meeting  with  Ned. 
Their  marriage. 
Domestic  bliss. 
The  baby. 
Ned's  temptation. 
His  fall. 

Address  to  Wine. 
Deserted  by  Ned. 


Part  HI.    The  Parting  from  Honor 

1.  Poverty. 

2.  Searching  for  work. 

3.  A  chance. 

4.  Seduction. 

5.  Lulled  to  sleep. 

6.  The  Betrayer. 

r.  Unwittingly  betrayed 

8.  A  calm  before  the  storm. 

9.  Murder  will  out. 

10.  Her  impotent  revenge. 


87 


Part  IV.    The  Last  Parting  of  All.. 

1.  Human  justice. 

2.  "In  Court." 

3.  In  jail. 

4.  Her  baby's  death. 

5.  Despair. 

6.  Companions  in  misery. 

7.  The   pace  that  kills. 

8.  Pangs  of  Conscience. 

9.  Memories  of  youth. 
10.  Remorse. 


97 


Finalk.    The  Magdalene's  Death. 

iii 


104 


lit 


JIM,  or  BORN  TO  BE  LYNCHED los 

ADVERTISEMENT  jq? 

Part  I.    The  Death  of  Jim's  Father m 

The  opening  of  Day ni 

The  Vulture's  prey m 

The  runaway ||2 

The  rescue j|2 

Gratitude  I J3 

The  Slave's  temptation 113 

The  maid  who  fell j  J4 

Fortune  favors  the  Brave II4 

The  cowards  of  Custom 114 

The  Planter's  revenge ns 

Part  II.     The  Death  of  Jim's  Mother 119 

Love's  sacrifice up 

Deathbed  repentance 120 

The  Mother's  prayer 12O 

Maternal   love 121 

What  losing  a  mother  means 122 

Part  III.     The  Death  of  Jim 125 

Address  to  Time i25 

Jim  as  a  man 125 

The  Temptress 127 

Visions  of  domestic  bliss 128 

The  seductive  note 128 

The    meeting 229 

The  trysting  place i29 

Chastity   I29 

When  innocence  fails 131 

The  eclipse  of  Virtue 131 

The  discovery 13 j 

The    betrayal 131 

The  pulse  of  the  mob 132 

The   victim's    fate 133 

The  close  of  Day 133 

iv 


THE  PASSING  OF  UNCLE  SAM 135 

ADVERTISEMENT  I3; 

INTRODUCTION-The  Brotherhood  of  Man..  139 

Part  I I45 

Who  "Uncle  Sam"  was 145 

Masonic  courtesy  in  war 146 

A  slave's  protection I47 

The  new   South I47 

His  wife J4g 

His  son 240 

In    Florida I49 

Their  new   home 150 

Paying  a  war-time  debt 150 

The  first  trouble I5I 

The  "Walking   Delegate" 151 

The  boycott J52 

Jackson's  murder 152 

Race   prejudice 152 

Death  of  Uncle  Sam's  wife 152 

Uncle  Sam  returns  to  Georgia 153 

His   son's    invention I53 

On  the  "Unfair  List" 154 

Suicide  of  Uncle  Sam's  son 154 

Ruin  stares  him  in  the  face 154 

Uncle   Sam  soliloquizes I55 

The   Patriot's   Lament I57 

P^«T    " 161 

Who  Bill  Sykes  was 161 

His   boyhood 161 

He  joins  the  Union 162 

Opposes  expert  work 163 

Proposes  eight-hour  day 164 

Elected  leader  of  first  strike 164 

V 


Bill's  method  of  dealing  with  "scabs" 165 

Results  of  Bill's  leadership 16S 

The  Western  Bridge  gang's  strike 168 

The  "Unfair"  lawyer i^ 

The  Boston  election 172 

Bill's  method  of  subduing  unruly  lawyers  172 
Thk  SoNfi  OF  Thi:  VVALKiNr.  Delegate 174 

Part  III.. ,75 

Frisco  after  the  earthquake 179 

Asiatic  exclusion  league igQ 

Bill  Sykes  makes  address 180-182 

Uncle  Sam  and  Bill  Sykes  meet 182 

Uncle  Sam  answers  him — 

The   fatal   speech 180-192 

The  death  01  Uncle  Sam 192 

God  Rules J93 


M 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

I.  A  DOUBLE  SUICIDE. 

"Tom  now  lost  hope 
"And  groaned  within  his  soul  There  is  no  God." 

II.  THE  DEATH  OF  HELEN. 

"Where  soon  all  oblivious  of  questioning  eyes 
In  gratitude  smiling  she  peacefully  dies." 

III.   Hanged  without  a  trial. 

"No  eye  but  God's  surveys  the  darkling  heath : 
Jim's  stiffening  body  is  alone  with  Death." 

IV.    the  passing  of  uncle  SAM. 

"And  you,  aye,  you,  who  would  now  stop  my 

mouth 
"If  you  could,  may,  ere  you  know,  be  victims 
"Of  the  same  far-reaching  conspiracy." 


vii 


MV 


THE  SEAMY  SIDE  OF  STRIKES 

OR 

THREE    GLIMPSES   AT  THE   LIFE  OF   A 
LONDON   LABOR    LEADER 


Begun  in  London,  Enoi^nd 
IN  1898 


.'13 


I 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


'yOM  SMITH,  the  hero  of  the  following  lines,  is  not 
*  placed  before  the  reader  as  a  Bacon  or  a  John 
Stuart  Mill.  His  ideas  are  open  to  criticism.  They  are 
his  side  of  the  story,  however,  and  only  as  such  are 
they  intended  to  be  taken.  The  author  disclaims  any 
responsibility  for  the  truth  or  fallacy  of  any  argument 
herein  brought  forward.  He  has  endeavored  to  be 
true  to  the  character  he  describes,  and  upon  that  point 
alone  does  he  hope  for  judgment.  The  story  is  largely 
reminiscent  of  the  engineers'  strike  in  London  in  1898. 
The  mechanics  and  laboring  classes  in  the  British 
Isles  universally  apply  the  name  "Master"  to  the  owner 
or  superintendent  of  the  works  in  which  they  are  em- 
ployed. To  an  American  or  Canadian  ear  there  is  a 
strange  servility  in  the  term  that  confines  its  use  in 
America  in  that  sense  more  particularly  to  the  ex-slaves 
of  the  South.  May  it  long  be  so  confined  for  the  word 
in  itself  seems  to  authorize  a  distinction  Inat  is  not  in 
keeping  with  th ;  spirit  of  the  Age. 

"Big  Ben"  that  plays  such  an  important  part  in  the 
story  is  the  name  given  to  a  very  large  deep-toned  bell 
hanging  in  the  tower  of  the  Parliament  Buildings  at 
Westminster.  It  strikes  the  hour  year  in  and  year 
out  with  monotonous  regularity  and,  on  account  of  its 
size  and  the  place  it  occupies,  is  the  pride  of  all  London. 


i 


PART  I 


COMFORT. 

"Silence,"  said  the  chairman,  "Smith  has  the  floor' 

And  immediately  order  was  obtained. 

The  recognition  was  discomfiting, 

For  Tom  half  liked  the  babel  of  voices, 

Since  it  deadened  the  thumping  of  his  heart; 

But  now,  in  the  stillness,  each  sound  is  heard 

And  all  eyes  turn  to  scan  his  every  movement: 

"Men  and  Mr.  Chairman :"  but  here  he  stopped ; 
A  rustling  dress  in  the  adjoining  room 
iuld  him  of  still  another  listener: 
Beneath  his  breath  a  prayer  went  heavenward— 
"God  give  me  power  to  do  credit  to  her"— 
Then  he  resumed  his  speech: 


"I  cannot  talk 
"As  well  as  I  can  toil.     Twenty  long  years 
"Of  hard,  continued  labor  do  not  serve 
"To  make  a  man's  tongue  flowery.    You  know  me— 
I' You  know  that  if  I  do  speak  plain  and  stamm'ring, 
"My  words  are  from  my  heart  and  are  sincere. 


"This  little  home  where  you  are  met  tonight 
"Is  mine.    To  have  it  I  have  slaved  and  saved. 
"Every  comfort  represents  a  struggle; 
"Early  and  late,  patiently,  steadily, 
"I  have  toiled  nor  wasted  one  red  penny — 
"Yet,  after  all,  the  Masters  I  have  served 
"Would  call  this,  my  paradise,  a  hovel ; 
"And  wonder  how  a  man  could  be  content 
"To  live  in  such  a  place.    And  yet  I  am. 
"I'm  happy  as  a  king.     Six  months  ago 
"I  took  a  step  of  which  I  cannot  help 

.  n  ] 


m 
I'M 


M 


"But  speak  in  terms  of  pleasure  and  of  pride; 
"I  married  Annie  then,  and  she  now  shares 
"This  'hovel'  with  me.     P'raps  that  fact  explains 
"Why  I'm  content—for  'tis  a  palace  fair 
"When  she  is  in  it." 


I 

i 


•:!    !     iil- 
!?    1     Hi; 


I  iiH 


Cheers   of  approval 
Greeted  this  remark.    It  had  a  true  ring, 
And  true  men  like  truth.     The  hearty  applause 
Made  Tom  more  at  home: 

"This  striking  business 
Is  a  serious  matter— it  needs  deep  thought. 
"If  it  were  for  myself  alone  I'd  say: 
"Drop  it  comrades  right  here  for  I  can  work 
"As  I  have  worked,  and  be  content  as  now. 
"But  many  workmen  are  much  poorer  off; 
"Their  hoi:  s  are  longer,  and  their  wage  less  fair. 
''It  is  the  strong  man's  duty  and  his  pride 
'To  help  the  weak.    All  pitying  eyes  must  see 
"There  is  a  screw  loose  somewhere.     No  Heaven 
"Could  ever  mean  that  they  who  make  most  wealth 
"At  the  expense  of  greatest  exertion— 
'I At  the  expense  of  half  those  higher  pleasures 
"That  raise  mankind  above  the  grovelling  brute;— 
•'No  Heaven  of  Love,  I  say,  could  mean  such  men 
"To  want  what  they've  made  at  such  killing  cost." 

"Hear,  hear!"  resounded  from  the  delegates 
And  Tom  duly  encouraged  thus  went  on: 

"If  we  chose  our  vocation,  or  in  fact 
"If  parents  chose  it  for  us,  we  might  then 
"Be  justly  punished  for  our  lack  of  sense; 


!,1 


[  12] 


i 


'But  the  pittance  doled  out  to  our  fathers, 
"And  to  their  father's  fathers  before  them, 
"Thrust  slavery  on  us  all  without  a  choice. 
"For  little  boots  it  whether  'tis  the  lash, 
"Or  slow  starvation  that  the  victim  fears, 
"Who  serves  to  save  his  scanty  beggared  life, 
"Is  but  a  slave  and  dare  not  own  his  soul. 
"Is  this  the  liberty  that  makes  men  great? 
"Such  treatment  is  too  harsh  for  even  foes. 
"Is  this  the  freedom  Britons  loudly  boast? 
"Then  save  us  from  it  if  it  is,  my  lads. 


"But  no !  'tis  gold,  not  Britain  is  the  cause ; 
"And  long  our  Masters,  by  its  studied  use,— 
"More  cruel,  than  the  lash— have  kept  us  slaves 
"That  they  might  take  the  millions  that  we  make." 

"Hear,  hear !"    "You're  right.  Ud."    "Shame  on  the 
Masters." 
And  the  men  began  to  grow  excited. 


"Oh  yes,  they  work— their  four  or  five-houred  day 
"On  cushioned  chairs  quite  wearies  them  to  death. 
"Their  slaves  must  suffer  for  the  over-work; 
"And  so  they  pass  us  with  uplifted  nose. 
"We  are  the  cause  of  all  their  many  cares. 
"What,  with  refusals  to  be  ground  to  dust, 
"Or  paltry  begging  for  a  shilling  raise, 
"Their  lives  are  pestered  and  their  health  impaired 
"And  off  they  hurry  for  a  six-weeks'  rest; 
"While  we  toil  harder  that  the  wherewithal 
"May  be  forthcoming  for  the  lazy  jaunt. 
"Brain-work  is  more  fatiguing,  so  they  say; 
"We  little  know,  they  tell  us,  how  it  wears. 
"But  we  do  know  that  those  who've  tried  them  both 

[  13] 


i 


"Select  this  tiresome  brain-work  ev'rytime. 
"The  fact  is,  Comrades,  and  you'll  bear  me  out : 
"We'd  all  be  brain  men  if  we  had  our  way." 


"Hear,  hear !'    "That  we  would !"  and  "We  will,  you'll 
see  I" 

Shouted  the  workmen  with  a  lusty  will. 


ill 


^^  "Sometimes  a  creature  from  our  toiling  ranks 

"Sees  our  debasement  and  th»  Masters'  gold, 

''And  since  by  honor  to  grow  rich  is  vain, 

"Decides  upon  the  end  by  other  means. 

"Then  by  a  course  of  politic  intrigue  ; 

"By  cringing  smile,  by  spying  on  his  mates; 

"By  menial  zeal  that  only  toadies  learn; 

"He  sinks  to  be  our  driver;  whence  in  time 

"It  needs  but  little  training  for  the  drop 

"Even  to  the  chair  of  a  slave  owner. 

''And  once  he  gains  that  depth  his  day's  at  hand. 

"By  drawing  life-blood  from  one's  helpless  s'aves 

"We  mount  with  swiftness  to  the  highest  height— 

"Title  and  wealth  and  luxury  and  power 

"All  ours— if  we'll  but  sink  to  slave  drivers." 

"Aye,  Aye !"    "  'Tis  all  too  true !"  the  listeners  cry. 

"An  infinite  God  in  His  great  goodness 
"Looks  down  on  us  even  in  the  workshop, 
"And  straightway  appliances  are  thought  of 
"To  save  our  labor  and  decrease  our  toil? 
"But  lo!  the  would-be  mercy  proves  our  scourge. 
"Whetted  in  his  appetite  for  riches 
"The  slave  owner  sees  in  the  invention 
"Only  a  shorter  cut  to  wealth  and  power. 
"The  machine  is  worked  to  its  utmost  bound, 

[  14  ] 


"The  market  is  glutted ;  the  prices  fall ; 

"And  we  again  must  make  good  the  shortage." 

"  Hear,  hear!"   "Curse  the  patents!"  "We  wont  have 
them!" 
Are  the  various  cries  to  this  period. 


"But  we  must  blame  ourselves  for  all  this  woe. 
"We  cheer  the  jockeys  that  ride  us  to  death, 
"And  like  the  slaves  in  the  time  of  Moses 
"We  side  with  the  Masters  against  our  friends. 
"Men!  we  are  the  backbone  of  our  country; 
"It  is  such  as  we  who  fight  her  battles; 
"Our  fathers'  blood  made  Britain  what  she  is, 
"And  our  own  blood  must  flow  for  what  she'll  be! 
"One  form  of  slavery  died  in  Cromwell's  time; 
"Yet  in  its  place  we  have  another  now : 
"Let  us  be  Cromwells!     Let  us  crush  to  earth 
"The  golden  tyrant  that  is  now  our  bane. 
"True  honor  lies  in  work.    Work  is  the  source 
"From  which  nobility  should  take  its  rise. 
"The  men  who  make  the  wealth  by  sweat  of  brow; 
"Whose  numbers  place  the  value  on  the  toil;— 
"These,  are  the  benefactors  of  our  race, 
"These,  their  own  work,  should  first  of  all  enjoy. 
"If  there  be  drones  they  have  a  right  to  life 
"So  long,  and  only,  as  it  suits  the  whim 
"Of  those  who  feed  them.     They  are  costly  toys 
"That,  as  we  journey,  we  are  best  without." 

"Death  to  the  drones!"    "Only  workers  should  live!" 
"We'll  show  them!"  say  the  swaying  delegates; 
And  Tom,  who  has  forgotten  all  reserve 
Continues  his  harangue  with  heated  voice: 


11 


hh 


[  IS  1 


.i'ii 
!  '1 


"That  there  are  men  een  in  the  richest  ranks 
Who  fain  would  travel  in  the  honest  way 
"None  will  deny.     But  they  are  handicapped 
By  a  false  system.    They  are  born  to  wealth 
That  was  amassed  at  the  cost  of  virtue. 
"Fortune  means  misfortune.     Only  by  wiles 
"Practiced  in  stealth  on  those  w!<o  ar.  helpless; 
«y  robbing  workers  of  their  just  awart* ; 
"And  threatening  ruin  to  who  wont  submit- 
"By  underhanded  arts  that  sea.  men's  souls;  ' 
By  bribery,  corruption  and  the  like; 
"Can  millions  be  obtained  in  any  age. 


"A  few  grown  piteous,  when  their  nests  are  lined- 
f  '  fearful,  may  be,  of  the  wrath  to  come— 
C    having  other  knives  that  must  be  ground- 
Make  large  bequests  of  their  ill-gotten  gains 
lo  found  some  home-some  prison  for  the  poor- 
Some  hospital,  or  college,  or  some  church; 
And  hope  by  late  munificence  to  cure, 
"And  pull  the  wool  across  men's  dazzled  eyes. 
But  when  before  a  just  avenging  God 
They  compromise  with  conscience  in  that  way 
Tis  one  more  proof  that  wc  are  being  wronged' 
And  brings  them  nearer  to  their  gaping  doom." 

"Hwr.  hear!"    "That  it  does !"    "They'll  rue  it  some 
Fills  up  the  breathing  place  that  Tom  here  takes. 

"But  we  have  lived  in  serfdom  long  enough; 
1  he  time  is  ripe  to  break  our  galling  chain; 
Each  hour  we  slave  but  gives  our  foe  more  strength- 
More  gold  with  which  to  crush  resistance  down 
Until  each  class  is  high  the  race  is  low. 


f  10] 


•The  so-called  high  should  raise  all  left  beneath 
It  IS  a  fault  when  men  their  kind  desert 
••And  shows  that  after  all  there  are  none  high 
Hence  on  ourselves  we  take  no  menial  task- 
Tins  raismg  of  our  race  from  slaves  to  men  • 
And  though  we  fail,  we  win  a  hero's  crown.  ' 
A  W  liber  forces  laurels  wreathe  our  brow. 

"If  we  can  only  stick  together,  lads, 
"And  brave  the  ruin  that  will  seem  to  stare; 
Ue  1  .nng  our  haughty  tyrants  to  their  knees: 
\\  h.le  freedom  s  sun  will  once  again  burst  forth 
And  p.erce  the  fissures  of  the  scattering  clouds 
As.  when  m  war.  the  side  that  makes  the  charge 
Has  taken  an  advantage  of  its  foe. 
|"So.  we,  first  started,  gain  an  impetus 
That  vvdi  take  greater  strength  to  overcome. 
U  ith  this  to  aid  us,  and  a  cause  sc  just  • 

^..u  •^7'' i""  ^^"-P^'-l'^Ps  a  month  at  most- 
I  Uill  land  us.  if  united,  at  the  goal. 
^That,  lads,  will  be  a  Waterloo  indeed; 

And  generations  that  are  yet  unborn 
^  A.n  teach  their  children  of  our  stand  for  right; 

And  influence  a  freedom  now  unknown." 


(Applause  loud  and  continued  from  the 


men.) 


But  we  must  be  united:  there's  the  rub 
pince  if  we  fail,  in  one  sei.se  all  is  lost - 
[As  failure  is  a  precedent  for  wrong— 
[A  reason  why  we  should  not  fight  again. 
^This  must  be  weighed  before  an  arm  is  raised; 
^And  those  who  rally  to  our  battle  line, 
|To  shout  our  cry  and  fight  for  Equal  Rights. 
^Must  burn  ^II  bridges  that  they  leave  behind 


[  I 


'    J 


I  Ml 


I 


"We  ask  fair  play ;  'tis  all  a  Briton  wants ; 
"Just  what  we  make — no  more — and  yet  no  less. 
"If  so-called  brain-work  in  the  light  of  truth 
"Can  make  a  just  demand  for  greater  gains, 
"And  prove  its  thought  more  potent  than  our  act, 
"I  say  be  honest,  let  it  have  its  due. 
"But  if  hard  work  with  horny,  twisted  hands; 
"With  shoulders  bending  'neath  the  heavy  load ; 
"With  eyes  trained  only  to  one  tedious  task ; 
"With  ears  unused  save  to  a  workshop's  din ; 
"And  limbs  scarce  ours  so  hazardous  their  toil; 
"If  this  I  say  does  not  deserve  a  lot 
"More  cheerful  than  the  begg'ry  now  disbursed — 
"  'Tis  better  to  be  dead.    We  are  not  brutes. 
"Unlikr  the  patient  ox,  that  children  lead, 
"Oblivious  of  its  state,  to  drag  the  plow, 
"We  know  our  shame ;  and  if  it  still  must  last — 
"The  grave  holds  out  some  hope.    And  if  we  die 
"Employers  may  be  forced  to  work,  not  steal, 
"And  own  the  hardships  that  they  scoff  while  ours. 

"I  am  no  'kicker'  men.    I've  lived  thus  long 
"And  saved  a  pittance  for  a  rainy  day: 
"If,  as  I  said  before,  my  case  alone 
"Stood  in  the  balance  of  the  tottering  scale, 
"  'Twould  be  my  pleasure  to  advise  IVork  On. 
"But  when  I  look  about  and  see  the  gloom 
"That  clusters  'round  the  life  of  comrades  true, 
"And  see  them  groping  in  the  darkness  drear 
"For  joys  their  stunted  lives  can  never  know, 
"My  heart  rebels ;  and  with  you  all  I  say : 
"Break,  break  the  shackles ;  let  us  rise  in  might 
"And  wield  our  only  weapon,  which  is  Strike." 


"Bravo,  bravo  I"  sang  out  with  one  accord 
The  roused  committeemen  in  ardor  wild. 

[  18  ] 


"I  move  we  go  on  strike,"  a  deep  voice  said. 


"Second  the  motion,"  came  from  half 


a  score. 


"Moved  and  seconded  that  we  go  on  strike," 
Said  the  chairman,  "All  in  favor  say  Aye." 

"Ayes  have  it."    "Carried  unanimously." 

"Move  wc  tell  the  Masters  our  decision 
"On  Monday  morning,  and  demand  same  pa> 
"For  eight  hours  as  we're  now  getting  for  ten. 
Carried. 


"Move  that  chairman,  secretary, 
"And  Tom  Smith  be  deputation  of  three 
To  wait  on  Masters  with  ultimatum." 
"Hear,  hear!"    "Second  the  motion,"  said  the  crowd; 
And  Tom  was  given  the  doubtful  honor 
Of  being  made  prominent  in  a  strike. 

Just  then  "Big  Ben"  within  easy  distance 
Rang  out  loud  and  clear  its  tuneful  warning: 
"Lin  Ian  Ion  lone, 
"Lone  lin  Ian  Ion ; 
"Lon  Ian  lin  lone; 
"Lone  Ian  lin  lon." 

Then,  marveling  at  its  own  levity, 

Began  to  boom  forth  noon's  sombre  opposite. 

tarnestly  the  tones  reverberated 

Until  each  grim  beat  became  sepulchral; 


[  19] 


i  ^  ,  ■ 


THE    MIDNIGHT    HOUR 


Oh^— there  are  echoes  of  fear  in  that  throb; 
Two — or  is  sorrow  thus  solemnly  pealing? 
Three — now  dim  shapes  take  the  place  of  each  sob, 
Four — and  distinct  to  the  cadence  arc  reeling; 
F/w— hear  them  shudder— 5i>— haggard  and  stark- 
Scven — to  demons  they  turn  in  the  dark. 
Eight — what  a  hailstorm  of  chatter  and  chaff, 
Nine — as  they  chuckle  and  rattle  and  laugh; 
Ten — but  again  all  is  sorrow  and  tears; 
Eleven — and  heaven  re-echoes  with  fears. 

Black  silences  follow, 

Each  Death  Warning  Hollow, 
Till  Midnight's  weird  passing  with  portent  imperial. 
Is  finished  when  Twelve  rolls  its  accents  funereal. 


The  men  stood  spellbound,  till  Tom's  cheery  voice 
Turned  the  omen  to  good  by  remarking: 
"Let  that  be  the  last  of  the  old  day,  lads; 
"From  this  beginning  may  a  new  day  dawn." 

Then  as  he  turned  from  bidding  them  Godspeed 
Annie,  his  wife,  met  him  at  the  threshold. 

"Bless  you,  my  lass ;  I  knew  you'ld  wait : 
"I  felt  you  listening  to  me.     Come  in  dear 
"And  I'll  soon  have  the  kettle  a-boiling 
"And  you  shall  have  some  tea  for  your  reward." 

But  when  they  entered  together,  he  found 
To  his  amazement  the  tea  ready  drawn, 
And  Annie  wreathed  in  smiles  at  his  pleasure. 

"You  are  a  treasure  indeed,"  he  whispered. 
As  he  tenderly  bent  down  and  kissed  her. 


[  20] 


J 


But  Tom  might  well  be  proud  of  his  helpmeet. 
Annie  Smith  was  one  of  the  type  scai  "  seen 
Outside  of  old  England.    Saucy     -cl  pert 
And  sweet  as  a  daffodil  or  prim  ose 
Yet  pure  as  the  sainted  lily.    He    cvf;s 
Were  like  the  blue  of  heaven  w.i.'ti.;   w  look 
To  receive  inspiration  in  sorrow. 
She  was  such  a  girl  as  sons  of  Albion 
Battling  abroad  with  the  foes  of  Empire, 

Or  struggling  at  home  with  the  imps  of  Mammon. 

Sore  discouraged— aye,  cowed— by  barriers 

And  oppression,  have  but  to  remember 

To  grow  brave  again  with  the  remembrance. 

And  as  Annie  stepped  out  for  a  moment 

To  again  put  the  parlor  in  order 

Tom  wondered  how  on  earth  he  had  managed 

To  exist  in  the  old  days  without  her. 

Around  him  on  every  side  he  saw 
The  results  of  her  work  and  contriving— 
Not  a  corner  in  their  four-roomed  dwelling 
But  gave  proofs  of  her  prowess  as  housewife; 

In  the  kitchen  the  pots  and  pans,  as  bright 
As  the  face  of  their  mistress,  were  in  rows 
On  arrangements  that  he  had  constructed; 
While  the  cook  stove  and  table  and  floor 
Told  of  no  end  of  cleaning  and  scrubbing. 


•3 


But  the  dining  room  even  spoke  louder. 
For  cushions  and  tidies  and  rag  matting 
And  doylies  of  drawn  work— that  puzzled  one, 
So  wonderfully   intricate   were  they— 
Were  everywhere  in   evidence.     Mottoes, 
Such  as  "Do  Right  and  Fear  Not,"  "Love 'at  Home," 
Procrastmation  is  the  Thief  of  Time," 


[  21  ] 


:|    '11 


Hung  in  appropriate  places  in  frames 

That  she  had  coaxed  him  to  make.    Holders,  too, 

For  every  imaginable  purpose — 

Each  purpose  being  particularly  known 

Only  to  her— were  attached  to  the  wall. 

In  the  parlor,  that  sanctum  sanctorum, 
Kept  dark  through  the  week  to  save  carpet, 
Were  stowed  all  the  family  valuables. 
It  was  there  that  his  savings  had  vanished. 
Why,  for  instance,  on  the  well  papered  wall 
Hung  two  lovely  landscape  views  that  had  cost — 
Without  stopping  to  mention  the  mirror — 
Five  whole  guineas  themselves.    On  the  table 
Five  poets,— in  padded  leather  binding,— 
And  a  silver  clasped  family  bible 
Vied  with  the  rich  green  cover  beneath  them 
For  notice  from  strangers.    I  "ke  driven  snow 
Were  the  curtains  whose  patterns  fantastic 
Filtered  the  Sunday  light.     On  the  mantel, 
Archly  decked  with  the  fanciest  of  laces, 
Stood  the  clock  that  his  fellows  had  given  him 
On  the  day  he  was  wed.    While  each  large  piece — 
As  the  sofa  and  table  and  whatnot- 
Were  such,  at  Annie's  thoughtful  suggestion. 
That  in  case  of  a  sudden  emergency 
The  room  could  be  changed  to  a  sleeping  place. 


But  it  was  in  the  bright  little  bedroom 
That  delicate  taste  quite  outshone  itself. 
It  was  there  that  her  filial  virtue 
Had  placed  in  linen-covered  cardboard  frames 
The  pictures  of  their  parents.    Hand  worked  flowers 
Were  strewn  around  each  furrowed  countenance 
While  sprigs  of  evergreen  encircled  all. 
Across  from  these,  in  loyal,  honored  place, 

[22] 


I 


Fair  Alexandra's  even  features  beamed— 
A  happy  indev  to  the  spot  she  holds 
In  British  hearts  and  humble  British  homes. 
The  bed,  with  counterpane  of  purest  white, 
And  pillow  shams— held  up  by  patent  springs 
Unseen  that  made  one  think  they  stood  alone 
Upon  their  crisp,  frilled  edges— and  beneath. 
Fat  pillows,  balmy  with  their  cleanliness ; ' 
Enticed  to  slumber  and  the  sweetest  dreams. 

Till  Tom,  as  he  thought  of  these  luxuries. 
Remembered  what  he  said  in  committee 
About  his  home  being  a  palace 
And  was  sorry  he  had  not  talked  stronger. 

But  hush !  his  wife  has  returned ;  and  the  tea 
Is  poured  out  steaming  hot,  in  dainty  cups 
That  belong  to  dishes  Annie  ved 

As  tht  wedding  remembrance  cherished. 

They  had  come  from  the  chum    >    ..cr  childhood 
And  oh,  how  she  treasured  that  set !     Not  one 
Of  its  eighty-six  pieces  were  broken, 
Although  used  constantly  for  six  long  months. 
And  now  they  sit  in  the  good  old  fashion 
Of  England,  sipping  the  cheerful  potion 
And  whispering  fond  words  of  endearment. 
The  strike,  and  all  other  troublesome  thoughts, 
Are  carefully  and  prayerfully  banished. 
And  the  couple  grow  confiding  as  doves. 

And  why  should  they  not  be  glad?  thought  Annie, 
Was  she  not  soon  to  become  a  Mother ! 
She  knew  it ;  and  so  did  Tom ;  and  the  bliss 
Was  the  most  profound  she  had  ever  known. 


[23] 


Woman's  life  is  a  series  of  changes— 
So  distinct  and  sudden  and  peculiar— 
That  man's  life  is  not  a  comparison. 
First  she  is  a  child  with  a  child's  fondness 
For  baubles ;— innocent  and  oblivious 
Of  sex  she  wanders  through  gardens  of  flowers. 

Then  she  becomes  a  girl  with  a  knowledge 
Born  of  instinct ;  and  clear  in  her  vision 
An  ideal  is  raised  and  perfected: 
She  will  keep  herself  so  holy  and  pure 
And  will  become  so  accomplished  that  men 
Will  bow  down  to  worship  her  excellence, 
But  she'll  be  careful  to  keep  far  aloof, 
Till  the  noblest  and  worthiest  has  come ; 
And  then,  after  he  has  wooed  and  been' tested 
In  some  most  romantic  manner,  she  will  kneel 
And  love  him  forever.     Then,  if  God  wills. 
She  will  bear  him  children— so  sweet  and  fair 
That  only  angels  may  peer  them ;  and  she 
Will  train  them  so  truly  and  with  such  care 
That  the  boys  will  grow  brave  like  their  father: 
And  the  girls  even  more  pure  than  herself. 
But  when  her  ideal  is  at  its  highest 
And  time  is  full  for  realization 
She  finds,  to  her  disappointment,  that  men 
Do  not  bow  and  worship  as  she  had  dreamed. 
And  but  faintly  distinguish  her  virtues. 

When  therefore  one  man  does  come  along 
Who,  alone  of  them  all,  respects  her 
As  she  had  aimed  to  be  respected. 
Love  for  him  dawns  like  a  revelation 
And  a  new  period  begins. 


[  24  ] 


The  loved  one 
lAlay  ht  the  ideal  as  a  circle  fits 
A  square,  but,  the  plain  projecting  corners 
Are  that  much  in  favor  of  the  lover. 
Oh,  what  a  paragon  he  is!     His  voice, 
His  carriage,  his  glances,  are  open  volumes 
W  here,  to  her,  his  perfections  are  blazoned. 
With  sacrifices,  impossible  to  man, 
She  now  adapts  herself  with  all  her' thoughts 
And  ambitions  gladly  to  suit  his  whim: 
Even  her  most  sacred  hope  of  offspring 
Has  been  disturbed  by  love.     Another's  wish 
Lights  warn  de.'.ire  for  special  attributes. 

And  then  if  she  has  been  true,  comes  wifehood 

Changing,  with  its  strange  ecstasy,  her  life 

And  her  estimation  of  her  lover. 

Now  she  is  safely  wed  for  weal  or  woe;— 

Surely  that  is  the  sum  of  earthly  bliss? 

But  no !  behind  the  ros«  there's  still  a  thorn  ■ 

A  secret  pang  stabs  wifely  happiness— 

A  fear  that  makes  her  blush.    Is  this  life  pure? 

:5u.  asks,  and  is  not  wholly  satisfied, 

Till  the  next  period  puts  doubt  at  end  ; 

Then  her  heart  beats  with  joy  unspeakable. 

ilaternity-the  hope  of  all  her  years- 
Is  at  hand.    She  is  not  barren.    Her  lord 
Will  now  be  bound  by  a  tie  much  stronger 
Than  that  of  will.     He  is  reinstated. 
A  tafe3;— blessed  be  that  Providence 
Who  deemed  her  worthy  of  such  an  honor. 
Her  very  joy  is  the  unfailing  proof 
Uf  her  purity.    The  poor  fallen  one, 
Whose  lust  and  unwise  trust  brings  her  thus  far 

[25  ] 


f  II 


Without  a  husband,  is  torn  by  chagrin 
And  disgrace  and  shame ;  till  the  same  cause 
Softening  the  true  woman  into  further  love 
And  tenderness,  so  rends  the  unfortunate, 
That  she  stoops  to  murder  to  hide  her  woe. 

Yes,  this  was  Annie's  secret.    And  her  joy 
Was  only  different  in  sex  than  Tom's. 
His  every  act  wns  tenderness  itself. 
Her  great  importance  shone  in  his  homage. 
It  was  a  new  reason  for  life;  a  spur 
More  powerful  than  a  raise  in  wages, 
And  perhaps  a  cause  of  tonight's  remarks 
About  posterity.    At  all  events 
'Twas  why  he  now  rose  and  turned  the  house  plants 
With  their  flat  sides  to  face  the  morning  sun, 
For  that  anticipates  his  wife's  wish 
To  have  her  hobbies  grow  symmetrical. 

But  it  is  getting  late  and  they  retire 
To  rest.    Yet  ere  they  fall  asleep,  they  talk 
Aboiit  the  delegates ;  and  of  their  wives ; 
And  of  Tom's  speech — which  Annie  said  she  liked — 
And  of  the  monster  strike  that  now  is  on : 
But  in  their  sanguine  state  and  trust  in  Right 
They  little  dream  what  striking  means  for  them. 


[26] 


i 


PART  II 


f    i 


4 


M  til 

i  • 


I 


^J^ 


POVERTY 

"Can  you  let  me  have  two  pounds  on  this  watch?" 

Said  a  seedy  looking  ill-fed  workman 

Who  crossed  the  threshold  of  a  Strand  pawn-shop, 

And  laid  on  the  counter  his  watch  and  chain 

W  ith  its  silver  charm  as  he  spoke  the  words. 

"Two  pounds,"  said  the  broker  with  a  hoarse  laugh, 
Is  It  a  Waterbury?" 


The  insult 
Would  have  cost  the  jester  dearly  if  made 
Three  months  ago:  but  Tom-for  it  was  Tom- 
Had  learned  to  eat  humble  pie  in  silence 
While  his  pocket  was  empty.    "No  it's  not !" 
Said  he,  "Two  years  ago  it  was  the  best 
"Silver  watch  the  maker,  from  whom  I  bought  it, 
"Had  in  stock,  and  with  the  chain  and  locket 
"Cost  me  five  guineas.    It  cost  another 
"To  have  that  face  photographed    ii  the  lid; 
"But  I  suppose  the  picture  of  my  wife 
"Is  of  little  value  to  outsiders— 
"No  matter  how  much  it  may  be  to  me." 

"I'll  let  you  have  twelve  shillings  if  you  like." 
And  the  broker  turned  away  carelessly. 


Twelve  shillings,  eh?"  and  Tom  grew  indignant 
_  vou  re  all  alike  I  see.    My  little  home 
"For  which  I  have  toiled  and  struggled  is  now 
"In  wreck  and  ruin.    Half  of  its  knickknacks, 
'  And  that  half  that  was  far  the  most  costly, 
"Is  now  in  the  hands  of  brokers.    One-sixth 


f 


[29] 


•   !l 


I'Of  the  cost  of  the  goods  within  a  year 

•'Would  cover  my  receipts  as  their  value. 

"So  far  the  vague  hope  of  change  in  fortune- . 

^  A  behef  in  a  brighter  tomorrow— 

"Has  urged  me  to  accept  without  grumbling 
The  pittance  passed  out  in  such  mockery 

"For.  thought  I.  as  I  took  it,  redemption 
Will  come  that  much  easier;  but  to-day 
"My  wife  lies  moaning  in  all  the  perils 
"Of  childbirth.    There  is  not  a  bite  to  eat 
"In  my  cupboard— much  less  a  doctor's  fee— 
"For  mercy's  sake  be  just  and  remember 
'The  treatment  you'ld  like.    Give  me  at  least 

One  pound  ^f  you  cannot  give  na  the  two." 

^  But  in  vain  are  appeals  to  sympathy  ;— 
To  resist  is  the  pawnbroker's  business. 
■'Twelve  shillings  is  all  I  will  loan.    If  you 
"Do  not  like  that  you  can  leave  it.' 


T«  u-    J-  ^"**  Tom 

m  his  dire  necessity  takes  the  cash 

So  unworthily  proffered.     "Wait  awhile," 

He  muttered  in  anguish,  "and  I'll  warrant 

"That  bru'2   will   remember   my   misfortune." 

Half  the  money  is  spent  on  his  way  home 
For  the  dainties  his  wife  will  most  relish 
^'Poor  little  woman."  he  thinks.    "What  a  shame 
To  have  to  bear  children  in  poverty; 
"Oh,  what  a  fool  I  was  to  leave  myself 
"Thus  unprovided."    And  tortured  in  soul 
With  a  man's  greatest  humiliation. 
Tom  sought  the  bedside  of  Annie.    A  neighbor, 
Who  herself  was  the  mother  of  (     'dren, 

[30] 


And  had  volunteered  in  emergency, 

Held  a  babe  for  the  father's  inspection 

As  he  approached.     On  the  couch  behind  her 

Lay  the  heroine  pallid  but  smiling; 

"A  boy.  Tom,  a  boy  it  is.    God  is  good. 
"He  has  given  us  just  what  we  wanted." 

Tom  kissed  her  again  and  again  and  praised 
His  progeny  with  all  the  flattering  art 
Of  a  lather  on  such  an  occasion. 
But  the  secret  chagrin  in  his  bosom 
Would  out,  strive  as  he  may  to  conceal  it : 
"I'm  sorry  old  girl  that  your  worthiness 
"Must  be  but  so  scantily  rcwa-ded." 
"Oh,  Tom,  you  are  not  to  blame,"  said  Annie. 
"Cheer  up;  there  will  soon  be  a  reckoning. 
"When  the  strike  is  over  and  won,  we'll  grow 
"AH  the  happier  for  having  suffered." 


i 


"Tonight  is  a  meeting  of  delegates 
"Is  it  not,  old  fellow?    Go  and  cheer  them. 
•There  are  many  need  cheer  worse  than  we  do. 
"Let  your  light  shine  with  brightness  among  them; 
For  'tis  strange  when  we  strive  to  cheer  others 
VVe  ourselves  get  the  comfort  we're  giving. 
"'The  Masters  are  having  their  day.    Fight  on 
"And  our  day  will  come.     Even  at  the  worst 
''There  is  one  joy  they  cannot  take  from  us." 
And  she  turned  to  caress  their  new  treasure. 

Tom  wanted  to  remain  by  the  bedside; 
But,  since  she  insisted,  her  wish  was  hit : 
Especially  at  a  time  like  the  present. 
So  off  he  went  to  committee  and  fv^und 
Its  attendance  grown  sparser  than  ever. 

[31  ] 


The  Chairman  and  Secretary  were  there, 
And  some  six  or  seven  of  the  others, 
Who  hailed  Tom's  tardy  entrance  to  Iheir  midst 
W  ith  unnsual  symptoms  of  pleasure 
The  meeting  had  been  dull ;  snch  blue  reports 
Of  seemnig  irretrievable  mistakes— 
Of  odds  so  very  insurmountable- 
Had  been  detailed  by  nearly  evVy  man, 
That  Tom's  appearance  with  bis  sturdy  sense 
And  firm  belief  that  all  must  end  in  good 
Was  lijte  a  tonic. 


His  ready  insight 
Took  m  the  situation  at  a  glance. 
The  pinched  and  haggard  faces  of  the  men 
Spoke  eloquent  of  care.    Annie  was  right- 
Perhaps  some  needed  comfort  more  than  they 
And  so  he  listened  to  the  different  tales 
Of  how  the  Masters  had  again  combined; 
And  starvmg  men  grown  fearful  of  the  end 
Were  flocking  back  like  pigeons  to  their  shame- 
How  people  who  were  neutral  in  the  strife 
Were  taking  up  the  case  against  the  men  • 
And  how  the  very  papers  through  the  land- 
Those  watch-dogs  of  the  Nation's  liberty- 
Were  filling  up  their  columns  with  abuse 
Of  such  as  tried  to  thwart  the  Masters'  plans 
Accusing  all  of  treason  who  but  strove 
To  bring  about  a  freedom  worth  the  name. 

With  articles  inspired  by  lust  of  gold 
(The  Masters  advertised  but  not  the  men) 
They  claimed  that  England's  loss  of  foreign  trade 
Was  due  entirely  to  the  strikers'  stand  • 
And  with  "I-told-you-sos"  of  skilled  untruth 
Ihey  cited  German  increase  as  a  proof 

[  32] 


m  Tom  could  barely  sit  to  hear  them  ou» 
And  when  at  last  he  got  a  chance  to  speak 
He  did  It  with  a  gusto  full  of  power: 

"And  so  we're  traitors  to  our  country.  lads. 
Because  forsooth  while  fighting  for  our  right. 
^     The  Germans  take  by  stealth  some  paltry  trade? 
■•     Shame  on  the  Briton  that  can  raise  the  cry 
And  may    e  go  to  Germany  and  live. 
If  German  serfs  must  work  twelve  hours  a  day 
And  harness  up  their  women  to  the  plow 
"And  fight  their  country's  battles  with  a  sword 
Of  tyranny  behind  them  as  a  goad  • 
"Should  men  who'd  fain  be  men  do  just  the  same? 

"If  when  we  meet  conditions  such  as  these 
And  to  compete  must  condescend  to  fall 
And  lose  our  British  birthright  for  a  palm. 
That  shows  we're  greater  slaves  than  Germans  are: 
Who  IS  there  m  our  midst  than  to  submit 
Would  not  much  rather  die? 


"P^Moj         -.1.  .  ^^^  might  in  turn 

Exc  arm  with  equal  force  that  since  our  queen 
And  her  advisers  in  the  Government 
i    Cannot  compel  the  trade  to  stop  with  us. 
I    Hy  subsidizing  Masters  to  give  in 
I  "Then  Magna  Charta  and  brave  Hampden's  fight 
I   Are   only   ,dle   incidents   at   best  • 
I  "And  we'll  exchange  and  bring  a  Kaiser  here 
Be  Patriotic!'  let  us  scorn  the  thought 
If  slavery  for  trade  is  what  it  means. 
I   Our  hght  is  on  the  line  of  Britain's  past: 
;    V^c  try  to  shuffle  off  a  tyrant's  grasp- 
j   A  tyrant  that  makes  poor  not  only  us 

[  33  ] 


r 
I  its 


"But  all  our  Nation  from  the  Monarcl    down. 
"Is  not  our  Sovereign  lady— bless  her  heart— 
"By  far  a  greater  ruler  with  her  throne 
"Backed  up  by  freemen  and  not  freemen's  shades? 

"Though  Persia's  wealth  made  envious  nations  weep 
"Her  half  a  million  slaves  could  not  avail, 
''When  freedom-loving  Greece  in  freedom's  cause 
"Sent  twenty  thousand  men  to  Marathon. 
"That  soldiers,  forced,  one  tyrant  then  found  out 
''Were  but  a  prey  for  soldiers,  free,  to  kill. 
"Yet  that  same  Greece  with  all  her  martial  fame; 
"Her  brilliant  aeons  of  surpassing  power; 
"At  length  succumbed,  in  spite  of  warning  voice, 
"Allured  by  Phillip's  gold  to  her  long  doom. 

"But  we  need  not  go  back  to  Ancient  Greece 
"For  instances  to  nerve  us  on  our  way ; 
"  'Tis  all  too  modern  since  by  baser  lust— 
"A  lust  that  would  enslave  its  own  free  blood— 
"That  half  a  continent  with  its  brave  sons 
"Was  lost  to  Britain  and  the  British  throne. 
"Vain,  vain  the  voice  of  Pitt— his  glorious  life— 
"His  years  of  unmatched  statesmanship— all  vain— 
"The  gilded  monster  feels  no  single  check 
"And  throttles  kings  to  sate  its  greed  for  gold. 

"Yet  that  same  race  that  took  its  life  from  ours— 
"Though  builded,  as  it  seemed,  on  freedom's  base— 
"In  Its  short  hist'ry  yields  us  further  proof 
"That  slavery  is  the  rust  on  freedom's  steel. 
"The  working  North  took  up  its  righteous  arms 
''And  said,  we'll  blot  a  curse  from  out  our  land ! 
"The  South,  indignant,  said  we  bought  the  curse, 
"And  now  we'll  fight  to  keep  it  hand  to  hand. 

[34] 


And  so  they  measured  swords  and  for  a  time 
E  en  Lincoln  shuddered  for  the  upright  cause. 
But  there  was  One  above  who  saw  the  strife 
And  soon  the  slave-weak  South  was  humbled  low; 
Till  grown  more  thoughtful  by  the  lesson  dear 
A  new  South  rises  from  the  ashes  strong 
Aot  so  the  winning  North;  her  honest  pride 
Fanned  by  the  victory  into  pompous  show, 
Now  takes  fair  virtue's  badge  as  Virtue's  self 
And  owns  allegiance  to  cold  glittering  gold 


"His  Majesty,  King  Cash,  gains  daily  sway 
And  Wall  street  is  subserved  on  cringing  knee; 
Itjs  not  ',s  .t  right?'  but  'does  it  pay?' 
That  guides  the  giddy  craft  o'er  trait'rous  sea. 
They  ve   had   their   Washington.     Th  ,  ve   had 
Grant. 

••Who-who  will  be  the  Joshua  now  called 
lo  break  the  golden  image  and  to  lead 
His  Israel  from  a  wilderness  of  guile? 


their 


'(I 


"h!;  /Ik   ^.  ""^"^  '*  ^'"-    ^''^"  Equal  Rights 
Has  distributed  wealth  where  it  belongs, 

And  starving  multitudes  and  titled  thieves 

Are  banished  with  our  vicfry  from  the  land; 

II  wager  England  with  her  English  race 

I    Will  not  take  long  to  win  back  what's  her  own." 

And  brighter  grow  their  weary  sunken  eyes ; 
lis  hard  to  summon  even  just  applause- 
por  hungry  men  need  food  to  grow  enthused; 
Sc,  when  this  outburst  meets  Tom's  stop  for  breath. 
rwas  inspiration  to  begin  again : 


[35  ] 


^^  "Who  is  our  special  tyrant?"  blind  men  ask— 
"This  so-called  leech  that  sucks  our  country's  blood?" 

"Alas,  the  problem  is  too  easy  solved. 
"The  tyrant,  whom  we  battle,  is  the  man 
"Who  can  grow  wealthy  while  his  workmen  starve, 
•'Who  can  grow  learned  and  yet  see  the  means 
^'TojI  cheerless  year  on  year  without  a  chance 
"To  e'en  discover  that  they  are  depraved. 
"This  fits  most  Masters  and  a  three-months'  fight 
"But  proves  the  theory  that  we  have  been  wronged; 
"Smce  with  a  strength  of  hundreds  to  their  one 
^'We  have  not  yet  depleted  all  their  store. 
"But  we  will  yet  succeed,  for  right  is  might 
"And  e'en  if  tardy  must  at  last  prevail. 

^^  "They  call  us  socialists.    If  that's  the  name 
"That  is  applied  to  men  who  scorn  to  kneel 
"And  kiss  the  hands  that  rob  them  of  their  gains, 
"Then  socialists  we  are  and  God  be  praised." 

^   "Hear,  hear!"  said  one  of  the  gauntest  present, 
"Long  live  socialism!"  and  Tom  went  on: 


m 


^^  "Fanatics,  traitors,  socialists,— they  shout, 

"And  in  the  clamor  hope  to  sneak  away; 

"But  we  are  not  misled  by  hollow  sounds; 

"We  know  exactly  who  and  what  we  are. 

"Fanaticism  real  ne'er  lost  a  field; 

"Great  concentration  is  its  better  name; 

"So  if  fanatics,  we  have  won  our  cause: 

"Since  those  thus  nicknamed  call  success  their  own. 

^^  "But  traitors,  never!     And  we  hurl  that  back 

"To  fit  with  better  grace  a  Master's  brow. 

r  36] 


Who- -who  IS  more  a  traitor  than  the  knave 
That  undermines  and  saps  his  country's  strength; 
And    or  a  throne  upheld  on  shoulders  broad 
And  laws  devised  to  benefit  the  whole-        ' 
Rep  aces  systems  where  the  crown  mea^s  force. 
Protectmg  property  though  people  die; 
And  legislation  is  a  legal  code 

Breathes  there  a  man  with  conscience  and  a  brain 

"And  f//'-°'",';'«*°'-y  past  the  rich  are  meek 
And  that  a  millionaire.  Utopian  like, 
Will  legislate  to  minimize  his  power? 


This  three-months'  strike  has  given  us  time  to  think- 

"nuf  i       u  "f  ^  '^'  '^^  ^^'^  ^^g^"-  heart : 
But  thought  has  all  begun  and  ended,  too. 
At  these  two  queries:    In  a  just  God's  plan 

"?nT  ^ ""l*^!  ''°'''"  *°  ^'  ^°'d  of  wealth  ? 
And  he  who  has  it  to  be  void  of  toil? 
1.11  late  I  see  an  answer  through  the  haze 
Ihat  daily  grows  and  satisfies  my  mind" 


^1 


"In  honest  times  the  Master  was  a  steward; 

"An'et°  l'     .'  *"''''•  '^'  ^""^""^  ^^'°"^«d  t°  air. 
An  equal  mterest-a  share  of  stock- 

The  Master  owned  like  every  other  man. 

H.s  task  tis  true  was  lighter,  but,  to  urge 

.  2   """^  saving  of  the  gains  of  all 

His  profits  were  the  same-so  justice  aimed- 

And  gave  a  spur  to  universal  toil. 


"But  lo!  the  steward  grows  vain.    His  easier  task 
Now  makes  him  fearful  that  it  may  not  last 
iJishonesty  and  vanity  are  kin; 

■•^o,  in  his  idle  moments  through  the  years 

[  37  ] 


i'if 


He  steals  a  piece  from  each  man's  little  pile 
'The  workers  never  dream  that  one  so  sleek 
'Could  use  soft,  tapered  fingers  in  that  way; 
"And  they  applaud  the  genius  that  he  shows 
'To  make  his  pile  grow  bigger  than  their  own. 

"Encouraged  by  their  ignorance  of  guile— 
"For  workers  are  the  noblest  type  of  men— 
"He  smiles  and  with  a  pomp  of  greater  skill 
"Makes  heavier  and  heavier  the  toll. 
"Then,  like  deception  all  the  ages  through, 
"He  pr^ches  virtue  thus  to  hide  his  theft ;  ' 
"And  points  to  false  accounts  they  could  not  read 
E  en  had  they  been  the  fairest  of  the  fair. 
"For  while  mistrust  is  hedged  about  deceit! 
"To  those  who  need  it  most  it  never  comes'; 
"And  unsuspecting  truth  wont  even  learn  ' 
"The  arts  that  falsehood  learns  to  make  in  vain. 


"Thus  on  the  steward  stole  till  at  the  last— 
(Credulity  like  flattery  overturns)— 
"He  quite  believed  he  really  did  deserve 
"A  tithe  of  all  the  gains  beside  his  own : 
"So  through  the  ages  were  the  workers  robbed 
'And  made  the  puppets  of  designing  rogues. 
"As  master  this  false  steward  may  fight  sincere  • 
"And  think  his  father's  will  gave  him  his  power; 
"But  no  clear  title  ever  came  by  theft; 
"And  no  one  can  bequeath  what's  not  his  own." 

"That's  right!"    "It's  ours!"    "They  stole  it !"  and  the 
rnen 

Applaud  this  portion  with  especial  vim; 
While  Tom's  mind  wanders  to  his  little  house, 


[  38  j 


^B 


And  rests  a  moment  on  his  day  old  son. 
And  praps  anticipating-thus  went  on: 

"But  thanks  to  friends  of  toil  and  their  first  fruit 
^cts    ardent     seed     evolved     irn^     t         ., 
womb-  ^'"^     Thought's    deep 

•;We  are  at  last  awaking  to  our  loss. 
The  debt  .t  owes  to  friends-to  native  gems- 
'mIu         T  'i'  ^'°^^  '"^"  ^''-^  marbleTusts 

"Has  sh'eT  "  ^m'"  ''"''•'  ^"^  -h°-  fame 
Has  shed  a  sparkhng  lustre  o'er  mankind 

The  Poets-statesmen-artists-and  the  kings 
Who  wrestled  truth  to  rouse  a  nobler  life  I 

Their  s,s  a  labor  that  toil  needs  must  own 
Since  't.s  the  halo  of  the  toiler's  goal 

"The  world's  wise  workers  work  that  they  may  gain 
A  Leisure  that  will  help  them  help  their  race; 

For  later  workers  to  step  higher  still. 
And  mark  you  this,  the  truer  to  the  root 

"Th    Plam  r;,'"'  ^^  '°"^^'-  ^°  '^^y  bloom; 
1  he  plant  that  leans  for  shelter  from  the  storm 
Or  never  turns  its  back  upon  the  sun,         ""' 
Will  soon  become  one-sided;  and  behold 

■Theirr''''''*^^^"^'^"''^'-^'tfa»3. 
The  men  whom  ages  honor  are  the  men 

Who  follow  with  the  poet  this  ideal:" 

"'The%ifrei'r%°'  "'^'"'"^  ''"''''  '^  --'"and 
ihe  threats  of  pam  and  ruin  to  despise 

To  scatter  plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land 
And  read  their  hist'ry  in  a  nation's  eyes  ' 


I 


[  39  J 


.  •{! 


1^ 


"Compare  such  laurelled  lives  with  lives  of  men, 
"Who  oy  their  combination  wage  black  war 
"On  all  the  interests  that  the  mass  holds  dear; 
"And  by  such  objects,  though  so  far  apart, 
"We're  taught  how  heroes  live  and  cowards  die. 

"For  they  are  cowards;  there  is  no  mistake; 
"  'Tis  cowards  take  advantage  of  the  weak. 
"In  fact  they're  even  worse ;  they're  like  the  fiend 
"Who  lives  beneath  a  money-lender's  sign. 
"One  takes  our  little  treasures  into  pawn, 
"And  with  the  smile  some  stewards  are  wont  to  give, 
"When  we  had  hoped  enough  to  buy  us  bread, 
"He  hesitates  o'er  what  will  buy  us  stone. 
"The  other,  like  the  pawnman,  waits  his  turn, 
"And  when  the  worker  comes  in  direst  need, 
"He  says:    'If  you  will  slave  for  such  a  sum 
"  'And  promise  never,  never  to  combine ; 
"  'And  that  you'll  always  kneel  when  I  am  near, 
"'And  kiss  the  ground  I  walk  on  if  desired; 
"'I  may  consent  to  own  you  after  trial.' 
"And  then  he  spreads  abroad  the  loud  report 
"His  men  and  he  are  mutually  agreed." 

"Hear,  hear!"  the  starving  listeners  shout  aloud. 
This  is  a  sally  that  has  struck  straight  home. 
That  Tom  is  but  the  mouthpiece  shows  *oo  plain 
They  all  had  been  through  mill  too  like  his  own. 


"The  world  admits  the  Pawnman  is  a  snare ; 
"A  sepulchre  for  all  that  men  admire; 
"But  when  it  comes  to  Master  that's  a  name 
"That  does  not  so  expose  its  rotten  core. 
"Yet  though  the  little  pug  fine  ladies  lead 
"May  be  decked  out  in  cape  and  ribbons  blue ; 

[  40  ] 


I 


''It  is  but  dog  at  best  and  prone  to  sniff 
"And  misbehave  and  show  its  hidden  fangs." 


"In  poverty  and  ignorance—  two  states 
"For  which  this  doubtful  monster  is  to  blame— 
"The  workman  is  coerced  and  duped  by  lies; 
"And  when  perchance  he  begs  a  living  wage  ' 
"His  Master  groans;  increase  would  ruin  all. 
"But  that  same  day  from  snowy  peak  to  peak 
"Your  so-called  pauper's  name  resounds  on  high : 
"He  has  subscribed  a  fortune  to  some  list 
"Some  royal  magnate  has  been  pleased  to  head. 

"Then  comes  the  knighthood— for  he  paid  its  price— 

"Now  see  Sir  Croesus  strut  and  peacock-proud 

"Boast  free  not  of  his  head  but  of  his  tail. 

"Ah  charity,  shy  nymph!  first  seen  at  home; 

"A  knighthood  for  thy  crown  were  crown  of  thorns 

If  as  wealth  grew  each  toiler  got  his  share, 
"'Grudged  lists-grudged  parish  aid  would  be  unknown. 

We  fam  would  pay  our  way.    We  hate  drugged  alms 

Keluctantly  we  take  the  miser's  mite. 
"That  which  we  do  not  earn  and  yet  accept 
"Must  soon  or  late  bring  high  flown  hopes  to  grief 
Men  want  their  own  given  to  them  as  of  right, 
"And  not  as  bounty  from  unworthy  hands 
••But  wait,  my  lads,  we'll  pierce  the  sheepish  cloak, 
And  show  the  ugly  teeth  by  name  disguised." 

"Hear,  hear !"  again  the  men  repeat  and  throw 
Their  ragged  caps  aloft  to  show  their  glee. 

•Some  sentimental  creature,  lulled  to  sleep 
"By  laureateship  or  other  gilded  pill, 


'At 

il 


! 


[41  ] 


il 


ijj 


Wrote  down  to  quell  reform:    'What  is,  is  right;' 
And  thoughtless  thousands  take  it  word  for  word 
"Some  other  dreamers  hoping  long  reward 
"When  Masters  are  obtaining  their  deserts, 
"Quote  Holy  Writ  their  slavery  to  prolong, 
"And  sigh  the  Bible  tells  us  to  obey. 
"'While  in  their  meekness  they  forget  to  think 
"That  white  slaves  have  some  rights  as  well  as  black 
'But  cant  or  Holy  Writ,  or  Heaven  itself 
"Can  never  ma.ve  wrong  right  without  a  move. 
"And  that  it's  wrong  we  too  can  glibly  quote. 
"We  read  our  Shelley's  or  our  Burns's  when  lo, 
'In  every  magic  line  some  spirit  lurks 
"That  spurs  our  lagging  gait  to  nobler  strides : 

"'If  I'm  designed  yon  lordling's  slave; 
By  nature's  law  designed; 
Why  was  an  independent  wish 
E'er  planted  in  my  mind?' 

"Ah,  there's  a  query  that  makes  tyrants  pale, 
"And  Masters  would  pooh-pooh  it— if  they  could. 
"But  in    its  asking  we  have  cast  a  coat 
"That  honor  will  not  let  us  wear  again. 
"E'en  from  the  Book  whence  all  would  license  take 
"We  get  a  dogma  that  towers  mountains  high; 
"All— all  admit  its  truth  and  every  law 
"That  shadows  half  its  greatness  is  sublime. 
"And  if  employers  took  it  into  heart, 
"And  for  the  future  let  it  be  their  guide, 
"We  could  forgive  their  questionable  wealth, 
"Nor  think  that  we  had  yielded  it  as  spoil. 
"That  dogma  says :  to  brother  do  ye  like 
"As  you  would  have  your  brothers  do  to  you ; 
"And  in  its  practice  there  is  peace  and  love, 
"And  where  it  reigns  is  harmony  divine." 


[  42  ] 


The  strikers,  to  an  echo,  cheered  this  truth; 
But  half  obhvious.  Tom  heard  something  more- 
For.  as  he  ceased,  "Big  Ben"  began  to  toll 
And  doleful  tell  of  midnight's  lonely  hour 
He  could  not  help  the  tremor  that  he  felt 
But  hastily   resumed  to  fight  the   fear: 

•A  hero's  least  used  weapon  is  his  tongue; 
No  victory  worth  the  winning  comes  with  ease; 
Who  fights  with  speeches  only  loses  grip  • 
"Not  e'en  Demosthenes  could  make  them 'tell 

I  put  my  savings  in  the  common  purse 
When  first  the  strike  demanded  ready  funds; 
And  bitterly  at  times  the  thought  has  come 
If  any  one  now  needs  them  I  am  he : 
"But  in  my  hour  of  need  I  can't  forget 
The  higher  call  of  millions  yet  unborn, 
"Till,  as  I  think  how  serious  failure  is— 
"How  very  grand  the  goal  that  we  may  gain, 
I  grow  mspired,  and  if  such  act  availed. 
And  sacrifice  of  one  would  win  the  day 

"wvi!''/^^"  '^°"'''  "^^"^  ^'■"^d°'"  w"tlen  plain 
With  dearest  blood  from  out  my  inmost  core. 

"Then  let  us  stick  together  and  to  Right- 
Coax  every  fainting  fellow  to  be  true;   ' 

Trafalgar's  glory  looms  upon  our  sight 
And  whispers  to  be  brave  is  England's  due. 

"'Starvation  for  a  victory  may  seem  dear; 

Bare  promise  is  poor  substitute  for  food  • 
But  better  men  have  died  for  scanter  cheer' 

And  what  we  gain  is  for  our  children's  good. 

"  'Stay  with  the  struggle  to  the  end  hope  craves ; 

Stay  with  It  though  'tis  death  that  comes  so  slow; 
Since  Britain  s  banner  says  we'll  ne'er  be  slaves ; 

Let  s  die,  if  die  we  must  to  prove  it  so.' "  ' 

[  43  ] 


■  U\ 


'  n 


^ 


PART  III 


^A 


11 


DESPAIR 

"Tom,  Tom— Oh  Tom !    our  little  one  is  ill ; 
"The  doctor,  quick,  or  else  we'll  lose  our  all'; 
"That  cruel  baby  farm— but  hurry,  lad, 
"Or  else  the  child  will  die  before  you  go." 

"But  Annie,  lass,  what  use  is  there  to  try? 
"A  doctor  wants  his  wage  as  well  as  we; 
"And  to  ensure  he  gets  it  will  not  comi 
"Till  part  at  least  is  paid  upon  his  fee. 
"1  have  not  got  a  penny  to  my  name ; 
"Our  very  last  resource  is  now  in  pawn ; 
"A  doctor  is  a  prize  beyond  our  power;' 
"Our  infant,  too,  must  go  if  go  it  will." 

Then,  Annie,  with  a  mother's  deathless  love 
A  love  that  even  wifehood  can't  appall; 
Scarce  pauses  when  she  hears  their  awful  plight 
But  hands  her  badge  of  marriage  to  her  lord 
Tom  took  the  ring  in  silence.    In  his  throat 
A  lump  welled  up  that  choked  the  slightest  sound  • 
And  from  the  ill  lit  room  without  a  word 
He  passed  into  an  outer,  wider  night. 
He  saw  in  this,  her  greatest  sacrifice^ 
And  loved  the  girl  more  dearly  for  the  deed  • 
And  through  the  heedless  throng  he  hurried  fast 
lo  tmd  a  doctor  that  might  save  their  child. 

The  day  he  bought  the  trophy  came  to  mind, 

With  all  Its  fairy  promise  and  its  joy; 

One  year  ago  today'     Oh,  what  a  change! 

Uh,  what  an  age  of  suffering  intervenes' 

\\  as  he  to  blam.  ?      He  could  not  quite  decide  ;- 

All  outward  signs  would  seem  to  say  he  was. 

[  47  ] 


4 


X^Jm 


He  had  but  followed  conscience  in  his  course 
Yet  conscience  had  prepared  a  prison  cell : 
For,  but  today,  upbraiding  at  their  work 
Some  men  who  had  deserted  from  the  strx- 
And  in  his  righteous  anger  using  words 
That  had  incited  them  to  take  revenge; 
Their  Master,  more  than  glad  for  such  a  chance. 
Had  quick  a  warrant  sworn  for  his  arrest. 
And  that  his  errand  now  might  sure  be  done. 
He  had  to  dodge  each  constable  he  met. 


But  he  has  managed  to  complete  his  task; 
And  back  he  hurries  to  a  once  snug  home 
To  wait  there  patiently  the  doctor's  ease 
And  hope  t?-it  Annie's  love  was  not  in  vain. 
He  found  his  wife  in  gloom  upon  her  knees 
Behind  the  pillow  where  the  baby  lay : 
And  hushed  his  step  that  he  might  not  disturb 
The  prayer  of  anguish  that  she  sent  above. 
A  candle,  flickering  from  an  upturned  box 
Beside  the  naked  couch,  shows  all  too  plain 
The  seamy  side  of  strikes.    But  stronger  proof 
A  vague,  uncertain  light  in  mercy  hides. 

But  hist!  the  doctor  comes— his  blund'ring  steps 
Resound  with  hollow  harshness  from  the  hall ; 
He  enters  now,  and,  in  a  broken  chair 
Which  Annie  offers,  sits  beside  the  bed. 
A  serious  look  o'erspreads  his  thoughtful  face. 
And,  holding  in  his  own  the  tiny  hand. 
He  peers  into  his  watch,  whose  steady  tick 
Despite  their  thumping  hearts,  the  parents  hear. 

"How  long  has  your  poor  child  been  in  this  state?' 
The  doctor  asks  and  Annie  hastes  to  say: 


[48] 


"I  cannot  tell  you  doctor,  for  you  see 
"Ten  days  ago  I  left  it  out  to  mind ; 
"My  husband's  out  of  work  and  we've  been  poor 
"So  when  a  chance  to  earn  a  shilling  came 
"I  left  the  baby  at  a  baby  farm, 
And  nursed  a  Master's  child  to  buy  mine  clothes. 
"The  Master's  wife  disliked  to  nurse  her  babe; 
"And  as  I  could  earn  money  in  that  way, 
"And  every  other  way  I  tried  was  vain, 
"I  took  their  infant  at  my  own's  expense. 
"They  told  me  that  they'ld  let  me  visit  mine 
"Each  Saturday  if  I  should  so  desire; 
"And  though  it  went  against  the  very  grain 
"I  had  to  take  their  offer  and  be  glad. 


"Last  week  I  found  my  baby  growing  thin— 
"The  matron  said  all  babies  thinned  at  first— 
"I  wanted  then  to  take  my  child  away 
"But  penury  compelled  another  week. 
"And  when  I  went  tonight  that  was  the  state 
"In  which  I  found  our  solace  sent  from  God. 
"Oh,  Doctor!  give  me  comfort  in  this  hour 
"And  say  there's  hope  to  save  it  even  now  ?" 

With  this  appeal  the  mother,  bathed  in  tears, 
Leaned  forward  on  the  table  for  support; 
Somehow  her  instinct  told  her  all  was  vain ; 
And  so  she  sobbed  as  though  her  heart  would  break. 
Tom's  head  hung  down.    He  could  not  even  speak. 
Within  his  breast  the  fiercest  passion  raged: 
His  Annie's  grief— the  doctor's  hopeless  face- 
Were  curses  that  he  breathed  against  his  foe. 

"Poor  woman,"  said  the  doctor,  and  his  voice 
Grew  husky,  for  he  too  had  lost  a  child; 
"You  found  the  baby  just  a  bit  too  late ; 
"No  ski!!  can  help  you  now— your  child  is  dead." 

[49  ] 


Unh?    H^"      ''  "°'"'"^'  ^"^  he  slipped  away 
Unheard    unnoticed  by  the  stricken  pair;  "^ 

He  dared  not  linger;  they  were  far  beyind 
Where  he  could  stop  or  heal  the  stinging  Wow 
The  ghmmering  candle  burns  itself  to  naughr 
Gnm  darkness  fills  the  cheerless  room  orSath  • 

O    Ws^b^  l"'^'""  '""''-''^  whispered  hi        ' 
Of  Toms  black  curses,  are  the  only  sounds. 

Upon  the  pillow  still  the  little  corpse. 
roAnnxe    seems  enwreathed  in  crimson  light- 
It  ^1^5^•""^d-'■«s  of  her  own  loved  babe 
She  robbed  .t  of  its  food  for  filthy  gold  ' 

AndlV'°"^''  '°"'^  ^"^«  that  thought  away 
And  so  she  groans  bereft  of  every  balm;  '' 

While  Tom  can  only  think  a  Master's  w  fe 

H    tats  t':  bT"  r  ^°"^'*  ^'^  -^^  '-h  woe; 
'T^  K  .!      /      ^  '  '^^^^^  With  stoic's  pride  • 
T,s  better  for  the  boy  to  die  than  live; 

SL    1       uf  "°'*  ^'^'  h^'d  have  to  serve 
That  other  ch.Id  the  offspring  of  his  foe; 
And  ,f  .t  could  usurp  his  baby's  place 
And  se,ze  that  sacred  fount,  a  mother's  breast 

Wou  d  21'  "''  ''"'  '''  P'*^  -hen  the  ;  a   ' 
Would  take  away  such  seeming  sure  resource? 

Pi^turedMH'^""  ''?^''  '^  ^"  •'"«>'  hrain 
lectured  the  horrors  of  the  gathering  clouds- 

aJZ7  7""'  '"  "'^^  '  workhouse  ptg- 
A  criminal  whose  crime  is  being  poor;- 

The  strike  a  failure;  and  himself  in  jkil- 
These  were  the  prospects.     For  despite  his  shame 
His  conquest  over  pride  and  willing  toil. 
To  earn  by  selling  matches,  flowerf  and  toys 
And  sweeping  crossings,  what  they  fain  would  eat- 
His  seedy  looks  had  driven  help  afar:  ' 

[  SO] 


A  man  grown  gaunt  is  like  enough  a  cheat— 

A  boo-man  that  not  only  children  fear;— 

For  at  the  best  he's  sure  to  hope  for  alms. 

And  so  he  found  in  all  great  London  town, 

So  few  kind  hearts  to  pity  his  sad  plight, 

That,  though  he  swept  from  early  morn  till  night, 

He  could  not  even  earn  their  scanty  rent. 

Within  his  pocket  now  he  held  the  note, 

That  told  him  he  must  leave  his  bare  walled  home. 

His  conscience  tells  him  he  has  done  the  right ; 
But  oh,  the  awful  price  such  conscience  cost! 
A  leader  of  the  strike  he  had  no  chance 
To  take  again,  e'en  if  he  would,  his  place; 
The  Masters  had  it  in  for  such  as  he— 
For  well  they  knew  he  had  it  in  for  them. 


But  hush!  again  he  hears  his  Annie  sob; 
"Poor  Girl,"  he  thinks  and  creeps  to  where  she  is, 
And  with  his  arms  around  her  whispers  low: 
"Come  lass,  let's  leave  this  more  than  empty  room." 

His  whisper  sounds  unearthly.     But  she  heeds 
And  wonders  that  he  cares  to  cheer  her  now. 
She  does  not  question  even  where  they'll  go 
For  anywhere  is  better  far  than  here. 
So,  silent,  to  the  bed  she  quickly  steals 
To  tenderly  uplift  its  lifeless  load; 
Which  folding  tight  within  her  threadbare  shawl; 
From  out  the  chamber  deftly  follows  Tom. 
Both  shudder  at  the  echoes  they  arouse 
•And  bolt  the  door  to  shut  the  spectres  in ; 
Then  with  one  aim,  to  blot  it  from  their  mind. 
They  leave  what  once  they  thought  a  peerless  home. 


ii 


[  51  ] 


r  *' 


Away  into  the  night;  along  the  Thames; 
Now  through  the  Courts  where  darkness  reigns  supreme  • 
Now  back  to  the  Embankment  where  they  res  ; 
Then  on  through  crowded  thoroughfares  again 

The  still  before  a  storm  is  in  the  air- 

The  hours  wax  late  and  hucksters  hurry  home 

And  thank  their  stars  they  yet  may  chea[  the  rain. 

But  Tom  and  Annie  see  no  warning  sign; 

Their  misery  propels  them  on  and  on  • 

Now  in  a  square  they  sit  and  nurse  their  grief; 

Then  up  again  to  pacr  deserted  streets 

Fate  puts  Westminster  Bridge  upon  their  way. 

And  as  they  start  to  cross  its  vacant  length; 

A  hvid  flash  and  then  a  rumbling  roll 

Foretell  too  late  the  nearness  of  the  storm. 

Another  flash-a  louder  nearer  roar- 

And  then  above  them  bursts  the  angry  sky; 

While  blasts  of  blinding  rain  their  garment;  pierce 

And  m  a  moment  drench  them  to  the  skin 

wu^^u'?^  ^"•''^  ^  ^^'"P  P°^t  on  the  bridge, 

Which  breaks  the  blasts  but  offers  poor  retreat  • 

It  simply  serves  to  flatter  and  deceive 

And  hold  them  from  the  shelter  elsewhere  found 

Tom  shields  his  wife  by  standing  next  the  wind' 

And  she  in  turn,  oblivious  of  herself 

Holds  close  her  burden  to  most  sheltered  spot- 

And  strives  to  save  her  infant  though  'tis  dead. 

And  thus  they  stand  while  loud  the  storm  king  shriek«  • 

The  few  who  pass  them  by  scarce  turn  to  see 

But  hurry  on,  a  home  before  their  eye 

'T.s  worth  while  facing  e  en  a  storm  to  gain 


h:l: 


[  52  ] 


e; 


h   * 


PagtSI. 


A„  .  _         ^  Tom  now  lost  hope 

And  groaned  within  his  soul  There  is  no  God.^^ 


And  such  a  storm.    Wild  snake-tongued  lightning  thrusts 

With  savage  fury  leap  across  the  sky ; 

While  every  leap  is  followed  by  a  crash 

Whose  mutt'ring  rattle  rasps  the  trembling  air. 

And  in  the  stillness  just  before  each  peal, 

The  belching  heavens  pour  such  torrents  down, 

That  whirlpools  eddy  on  the  broad,  smooth  bridge 

In  madd'ning  strife  to  join  the  stream  below; 

And  as  belated  cabbies,  in  their  haste, 

Forget  all  law  and  gallop  through  the  slush ; 

The  swirling  wheels  and  horses'  prancing  hoofs 

Send  dirty  splashes  o'er  the  shivering  pair. 


.1 
r 

t 


But  hark!  the  battle  has  again  begun. 

She  how  the  thick  clouds  crack  with  living  fire ! 

Was  ever  such  a  storm  in  London  known? 

Did  Winter  ever  war  like  this  before? 

And  Tom  and  Annie  shudder  as  they  crouch; 

Within — without  the  same  unpitying  power. 

Is  this  God's  mercy  for  despairing  souls? 

Another  crash — another  deafening  roar. 

No  babe — no  home — no  friend  to  offer  work; 

The  strike  a  failure  and  their  last  coin  gone ; 

Half  starved ;  what  wonder  that  Tom  now  lost  '. 

And  groaned  within  his  soul :  There  is  no  God. 


lope 


The  cruel  flashes  twisting  through  the  sky, 
Like  golden  serpents  seem  to  squirm  in  scorn ; 
They  look  like  Masters.    How  they  mock  his  woe. 
Who  thwarts  their  awful  strength  can  only  die. 

And  then  he  mutters  in  the  ceaseless  din 
While  Annie  crouches  closer  in  her  fear; 
"The  World's  one  only  God  is  gold — base  gold; 
"With  it  the  veriest  fool  has  sovereign  power; 

[S3] 


li 


h  11 


F!  1r 


III 


•;The  halo  that  surrounds  the  man  of  wealth 
No  matter  if  he  steals  his  shining  store         ' 
Makes  h.m  an  .dol  virtue  stoops  to  praise. 
A^d  worship  while  it  licks  the  cloven  paw. 

A  heros  attributes  must  bend  the  knee. 
And  offer  at  its  shrine  in  sacrifice, 
H.S  strength,  his  love  of  truth,  his  hope  of  heaven  - 
Aye.  Ganges  Mother  like,  hi,  very  Sild.  ' 

If  he  resists  behold  the  yawning  cell"- 
And  Tom  here  pictures  where  he  soon  must  be.- 
And  then  reverts  to  what  seem,  even  worse; 
Wis  Annif  in  a  workhouse  picking  tow. 

But  as  one  storm  begins  to  lose  it,  force 
Above  the  din  another  storm  is  heard- 
List  to  its  laugh  I    Why  does  the  thunder  cease? 
Oh  for  a  crash  to  drown  that  brazen  tune : 

"Lin  Ion  Ian  lone. 

Lone  Ian  lin  Ion; 

Lan  lin  lone  Ion; 

Lon  lan  Hn  lone." 

wlh.'^^v'  ""ul^  ^"^  "^'«  ^*^""  t°"«  the  hour. 

?ll  r?  7  '^'°^  '^'  "''^''  ««<=h  ^^^  a  scourge 

IZ      .1  '^u  '''''^''  ^^""'^  '^^  ^'^n  strike. 
And  writhes  beneath  them-they  recall  the  past! 

"Oh  Anrffe,  let  us  end  it  all."  he  said; 

Its  little  hmbs  vere  stiff-its  face  seemed  ice- 
And  sent  a  chill  throughout  her  wretched  frame 


f  54  ] 


"Let's  end  it  all  and  cheat  them  of  their  prey ; 
■'We  need  not  suffer  torture  any  more; 
"There  is  no  death  so  dark  as  such  a  life." 
And  Annie  by  grim  silence  gave  consent. 

"Boom,"  sang  Big  Ben.      "Curse  on  that  ghastly  bell !" 
And  then  Tom  stooped  to  kiss  her  ere  they  died; 
And  what  a  kiss— First  love  ne'er  knew  its  heat, 
As  Tom  upon  her  bloodless  lips  pressed  his. 
Oh  how  they  suck  each  other's  very  soul. 
And  live  long  years  of  agonizing  bliss, 
To  seal  death's  compact ;  not  the  first  time  sealed 
In  such  a  way— for  kisses  often  kill. 


"Boom"— but  its  echoes  do  not  die  away 
Ere  o'er  the  tailing  leap  the  hapless  pair; 
Tom's  arm  is  'round  her  as  they  take  the  plunge 
While  close  between  the  two  is  held  their  child. 


A  splash !  a  gurgle  from  the  sullen  waves ! 
Was  it  the  wind  or  was  it  Annie  sighed? 
The  night  watch  toils  across  the  silent  bridge. 
And  hears  Big  Ben's  last  toll  and  thinks  it  sweet. 


!      ; 

ill 


Now  morn  commences  while  the  storm  clouds  stir; 
See  through  yon  crevice  how  that  star  shines  clear ! 
The  Thames  flows  onward,  and  to  tell  Tom's  fate. 
There's  naught  but  circles  hurrying  to  the  sea. 


«  «  • 


But  in  that  tune  where  Tom  foreheard  his  doom, 
Had  he  but  listened  with  a  happier  ear. 
He  would  have  heard  above  Man's  petty  strife 
This  solemn  message  ringing  through  the  air: 

[  55] 


« 


THE  SONG  THAT  BIG  BEN  SINGS. 


!  r 


From  my  abode 
In  freedom's  pile, 

I  am  the  goad 
To  honest  toil; 


I  tell  the  time 
Day  in— day  out, 

My  lonely  chime 
Is  freedom's  scout; 

I  dare  not  leave 
My  daily  task, 

Not  e'en  to  cleave 
The  tyrant's  mask; 

For  when  I  cease 
To  tell  the  hour 

Then  will  increase 
The  tyrant's  power; 

So  here  I  toll 

From  year  to  year. 
The  sentry  soul 

That  skulker's  fear. 

No  longer  seek 

With  worthless  gold. 
To  crush  the  weak 

Or  cow  the  bold. 


[  56  J 


My  throbbing  tones 
Are  full  of  pain; 

They  echo  groans 
Of  starving  men. 

I  am  the  wail 

Of  helpless  poor; 
My  tireless  tale 

Tells  vengeance  sure. 

I  echo,  too, 

A  Gruesome  knell. 
For  those  who  woo 

The  arts  of  hell. 


All  those  who  come 
To  mar  my  laws; 

My  doleful  thrum 
In  warning  awes. 

But  those  who  try 

To  do  the  right, 
Need  never  fly 
My  thund'ring  might. 


Be  careful  all ! 

The  time  will  come 
When  I  will  call 

And  you'll  be  dumb. 


)| 


I  57] 


ii 
i 


HELEN 
A  STORY  OF  FOUR  PARTINGS 


(I 


BeauM  IN  New  Yohk 
IK  1895 


>  -      il 


r  •  i   i 


-m 


ADVERTISEMENT 

IT  is  melancholy  to  have  to  say  in  such  a  century  of 
*  progress  as  the  one  in  which  we  live  that  the  fol- 
lowing story  is  more  than  imaginary.  Yet  as  a  matter  of 
fact  there  is  no  incident  here  related  that  was  not 
grounded  on  newspaper  paragraphs. 

Justice— even  in  the  highest  of  human  courts — depends 
all  too  largely  on  the  ability  of  one's  lawyer  and  the  sort 
of  health  that  one's  judge  is  enjoying.  Would  that  it 
were  otherwise.  Yet  what  have  we  a  right  to  expect 
when  Society  accepts  with  good  natured  forgetfulness 
such  excuses  as  "Oh  he's  only  sowing  his  wild  oats," 
yet  on  the  other  hand  holds  its  skirts  from  contamination 
when  it  meets  such  a  victim  as  "Helen." 


f  1 


fl: 


INTRODUCTION 

In  penitent  agony,  gasping  for  breath, 

A  Magdalene  lies  on  her  pillow  of  death  ; 

Above  her  no  roof  hides  the  fathomless  sky; 

Around  her  a  crowd  stands  with  wondering  eye — 

Now  surging— now  vieing  to  see  the  white  face 

Uf  one  who  so  early  had  fallen  from  grace. 

Yet  she  heeds  not  the  mob  or  its  curious  stare ; 

She  heeds  not  its  strife  in  her  struggle  for  air; 

She  has  done  with  the  world  and  its  worry  and  woe; 

She  has  done  with  the  causes  that  laid  her  u-.  low : 

Away  from  the  haunts  of  her  shame  and  her  sin ; 

She  looks  up  at  heaven,  its  mercy  to  win. 

And  heaven  rewards  her :  before  her  glad  eye 

The  angels  are  hovering  to  bear  her  on  high; 

The  jeers  and  the  pity  and  oaths  of  the  throng 

Are  but  notes  in  her  ear  of  celestial  song. 

"Who  is  she?"  "What's  happened?"  the  queries  fast  fly; 

"A  prostitute  dying,"  new  voices  reply; 

"Is  that  all?"  say  some  and  continue  their  way; 

While  others,  more  curious,  as  vulgarly  stay. 

But  no !  it  is  not  all :  That  fast  fleethg  soul 

Is  one  of  too  many  to  reach  the  same  goal ; 

By  well  beaten  path;  o'er  the  same  deadly  snare; 

Through   circumstance,   cruelty,    falsehood,    despair. 

But  soft !    It  is  over :    Life's  last  sands  are  run  ; 

Now  Death  has  completed  what  man  had  begun 

May  He  whose  wise  purposes  left  her  to  fall 

Nor  struck  down  the  wretch  ..ho  beguiled  her  of  all, 

Now  point  her  a  place  in  the  happiest  sky — 

For  this  is  her  story  as  whispered  on  high : 


i 


s  t: 


PART  I 


i 


THE  PARTING  FROM  HOME 

•All  aboard  for  the  West ;  for  the  West  all  aboard ;" 

And  the  engine's  shrill  shriek  lends  its  force  to  each  word. 

Then  the  swish  of  the  steam  as  it  coughs  itself  free, 

And  the  clang  of  the  bell  as  it  dances  in  glee, 

Are  the  sounds  that  are  heard  as  a  train  took  its  way 

From  a  village  that  close  by  the  proud  Hudson  lay. 

•'Goodbye  and  God  bless  you,"  the  old  Merchant  said, 

As  his  lips  on  her  forehead  he  hurriedly  laid; 

"And  remember,  my  child,  if  your  hopes  turn  awry — 

•'If  the  West  does  not  always  respond  to  your  sigh; 

■'Come  back  to  the  old  home — ^you're  welcome  again." 

Then  hastily  beat  his  retreat  from  the  train. 

The  girl's  streaming  eyes  followed  fast  down  the  car ; 

And  then  from  the  side  watched  him  gaze  from  afar ; 

Till  in  distance  the  Merchant  and  other  kind  friends. 

Who  had  come  to  get  one  last  good  shake  of  her  hands. 

Were  lost  in  the  vista,  and  Helen  sank  back 

To  muse  on  her  past  as  she  sped  o'er  the  track; 

To  muse  and  to  weep,  though  by  duty  upborne — 

For  she  left  it  by  choice  without  hope  of  return. 

«  »  «  *  » 


It  was  back  in  the  sixties,  his  business  complete. 
While  strolling  through  town  ere  his  train  left  at  eight. 
That  a  Merchant  one  day,  in  miraculous  wise, 
\\'as  attracted  and  charmed  by  a  pair  of  bright  eyes. 
They  were  those  of  a  baby  not  yet  three  years  old 
In  the  top  story  room  of  a  Poor  Orphans'  Fold ; 
And  so  like  the  eyes  of  a  dear  little  boy 
Whose  death  had  late  riven  his  hearth  of  its  joy- 
That  entering  the  Fold  ere  his  train  time  had  come 
He  made  all  arrangements  to  take  Baby  home. 
To  take  little  Helen  so  dainty  and  sweet, 

[  67  ] 


I   I 


So  credulous,  earnest  and  free  from  deceit 
Whose  mother,  a  widow  by  penury  pressed! 
Had  placed  in  the  Fold  ere  she  left  for  the  West  • 
Renouncing  all  claim  to  the  child  she  had  borne 
•For  ,ts  own  sake."  she  said  as  she  left  it  forlorn 
And  now  as  the  Merchant  in  k-ndness  bent  down 
To  fondle  and  toy  with  her  tresses  of  brown, 
The  baby  returned  his  caresses  sincere, 
And  gladly  went  with  him  uncon;^cious  of  fear 


It  was  love  at  first  sight  with  the  Merchant  and  child 
She  was  drawn  as  by  force  to  his  manner  so  mild 
Not  stern  and  presumptive-Not  haughty  nor  vain. 
Without  that  hauteur  which  the  wealthy  attain 
He  was  gentle  and  kind  and  though  dignified,  still 
brew  playful  and  friendly  with  children  at  will 
Success  had  been  his;  from  his  earliest  youth 
He  had  shown  a  marked  fitness  for  trade;  'tis  a  truth 
That  the  merchant  as  well  as  the  poet  or  king 
Is  born  to  his  calling;  when  to  business  boys  cling- 
Then  give  them  full  rein  and  their  future  is  sure 
So  fared  it  m  this  case;  though  honest  and  pure 
His  dealings  turned  everything  touched  into  gold  • 
And  high  among  honors  his  name  was  enrolled  • ' 
Well  read  and  well  versed  in  the  World's  wily  ways 
Accomplished,  abstemious,   uninjured  by  praise- 
The  instinct  of  Helen,  that  trusted  his  worth. 
And  went  with  him  quickly  in  innocent  mirth' 
Was  an  index  to  be  before  aught  else  preferred; 
For  a  child's  intuition  but  seldom  has  erred. 


His  wife  was  a  woman  of  similar  parts. 
Refined  and  accomplished  in  womanly  arts; 

[  68  ] 


She  won  every  eye  by  her  beauty  of  form, 

She  won  every  heart  by  her  lady-like  charm; 

She  was  gentle  to  all  and  the  poor  learned  to  love 

The  one  whom  all  pitiful  stories  could  move ; 

While  the  rich  made  her  actions  a  guide  for  their  own, 

And  where  she  might  lead  she  was  seldom  alone. 

Not  forward  or  flashy— Not  backward  or  dense— 

Nor  erratic— or  odd — but  a  woman  of  sense: 

She  was  all  that  the  wife  to  the  husband  should  be— 

An  adviser,  a  solace,  a  helpmeet ;  and  he 

Grew  daily  her  debtor,  till  loving  and  loved, 

True  marriage  a  biessing  they  constantly  proved. 

One  beautiful  child  had  made  union  complete; 

A  boy  who  bade  fair  to  be  noble  and  great. 

But  the  parents— too  happy— were  envied  on  high; 

The  child  they  had  worshipped  was  born  but  to  die; 

And  though  months  had  passed  since  the  baby  had  gone 

It  seemed  to  the  mother  a  week  had  scarce  flown. 


1 


And  so  when  the  Merchant  with  Helen  arrived; 

She  pitied  the  infant  of  parents  deprived; 

And  winning  quick  trust  by  a  motherly  care. 

Ensconced  her  at  "Redfern"  its  comforts  to  share. 

At  "Redfern,"  the  boast  of  the  country  around ; 

A  home  where  all  joys  of  refinement  were  found; 

Where  art  vied  with  nature  to  offer  content, 

And  all  of  its  choicest  of  ornaments  lent ; 

Where  the  cottage,  a  model  of  architect's  skill, 

Surrounded  by  orchard  and  crowning  a  hill. 

Was  lost  'mid  a  covering  of  ivy  and  vine 

In  whose  clinging  tendrils  sweet  roses   recline: 

Where  meadows  stretched  off  to  the  haze-hidden  height, 

Or  yielded  to  pastures  with  cattle  in  sight; 

Where  sombre  toned  cow-bells  and  bleating  of  sheep. 

Subdued  by  the  distance,  would  dreamily  creep, 

[  69  ] 


11 


I  i.^ 


To  blend  with  the  droning  of  diligent  bees 
And  singing  of  birds  in  the  r.eighbor.ng  trees: 
While  Hudson  dose  by  in  his  majesty  flowed 
And  hallowed  the  charm  of  a  faultless  abode' 


Twas  here  Helen  dwelt,  and  as  years  rolled  along 
Grew  loving  and  lovely;  her  always  blithe  song 
VV^s  just  what  was  needed  for  Redfern's  perfection. 
The  past  was  forgot;  by  her  guardian's  direction 
Ao  mention  was  made  of  the  Fold  or  her  birth; 
A  or  action  betrayed  to  detract  from  her  worth 
The  Merchant  and  wife  were  her  father  and  mother; 
The  son  they  had  lost  was  to  her  a  lost  brother 
And  so  growing  older  as  Red  fern's  heiress- 
Beneath  the  kind  rule  of  a  wise  governess;  ' 
She  took  wondrous  strides.  Her  great  aptness  to  learn 
Made  mastering  studies  but  matters  of  turn 
At  last  quite  elated  to  college  she  went, 
And  there  three  industrious  Winters  were  spent, 

w  ,.*"°T^"''''''  ^"^  '*""*=*^  '"  »he  Arts  of  her  time- 

Well  read  in  the  authors  and  poets  sublime; 

She  returned  to  her  home  nothing  loath  you  may  ween, 

uer  her  girlish  companions  a  positive  queen- 

Yet  modest  and  kindly— her  happiest  parts, 

But  outward  designs  of  the  truest  of  hearts 


ill 


Such  a  beautifu:  maiden  with  impulses  true 
Desirous  the  right  course  alone  to  pursue 
With  a  training  so  just  'neath  the  fostering  care 
Of  a  mother  so  gentle,  so  patient,  so  rare 
Of  a  father  inured  to  the  ways  of  the  world. 
With  a  future  so  bright  and  so  useful  unfurled; 
Was  It  wonder  that  Helen  society  led? 

f  70  ] 


That  her  comrades  were  proud  of  so  br  Uiant  a  head? 
That  each  home  for  miles  gave  its  ready  consent 
To  make  her  most  welcome  wherever  she  went? 
That  the  aged  and  weak  vied  in  calling  her  friend? 
That  the  poor's  grateful  smiles  showed  their  debt  at 

her  hand? 
That  she  shared  all  the  secrets  the  village  contained— 
So  strong  was  the  faith  that  her  earnestness  gained? 
Or  that  half  the  young  men  nursed  the  hopes  in  their 

breast 

That  they  some  day  might   win   her— their   idol   con- 
fessed ? 
And  this  the  more  possible  seemed  to  each  youth 
Since  alike  to  all  comers — exciting  no  ruth- 
Whatever  her  maidenly  fancy  might  be 
She  showed  that  as  yet  she  was  heart  whole  and  free. 


8 

But  Fortune,  too  lavish,— nor  smiling  with  stint 

On  commonest  actions — is  giving  a  hint 

Of  trial  and  trouble  and  danger  to  come: 

For  few  lives  can  long  escape  Sorrow's  chill  gloom. 

Fair  Helen,  till  now  unaware  of  her  birth. 

And  taking  more  pride  than  was  wise  in  the  worth 

Of  those  whom  she  deemed  were  her  parents  and  kin. 

Excited  at  length   such  an  envious  spleen. 

In  one  who  had  posed  as  the  family  friend, 

(Who  supped  at  the  table  she  now  sought  to  rend 

And  knew  the  ward's  story)  she  told  her  the  tale; 

And  told  it  so  harshly  that  trembling  and  pale 

The  girl  sought  the  Merchant.    But  what  could  he  say? 

The  secret  was  out  and  no  words  could  allay 

Poor  Helen's  distress ;  for  despite  good  intent 

His  comfort  but  proved  her  of  doubtful  descent. 

The  shock  was  so  sudden  for  weeks  she  lay  ill. 

Her  life  became  vacant,  unsettled  her  will. 

[71] 


WU  '."liJl^.l^ 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TBT  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


APPLIED    IM/1GE      Ir 

1653  East  Main  Street 

Rochester,  Near  York        14609      USA 

(716)  *82  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)  288-5989  -Fox 


IP 


We  can  doctor  the  pass  of  a  ruffian's  steel, 
But  the  gash  of  the  gossip  is  harder  to  heal. 


I 


ffi 


As  the  time  wore  away,  Helen,  conquering  pride, 
Determined  to  advertise  wisely  and  wide 
For  her  parent— her  mother:    How  strange  and  unreal 
That  word  had  become.    Down  her  cheeks  there  would 

steal 
Great  salt  tears  as  she  thought  of  it  all.    Alone — 
Alone  among  strangers,  a  waif  and  unknown! 
Though  the  Merchant  and  wife  did  their  best  to  restore 
The  confident  manner — the  love  as  of  yore. 
Still  she  felt  an  outsider;  their  kindness  hurt  most. 
It  was  charity  only,  it  seemed  to  her  cost. 
Her  mother  she  carefully  traced  from  the  East; 
With  each  post  returning  her  worry  increased: 
Perhaps  she  was  dead  and  her  search  was  in  vain ; 
But  youth  always  buoyant — grew  hopeful  again. 
Perhaps  she  was  poor,  and  the  tears  like  a  flood 
Rained  down  o'er  her  cheeks  for  her  own  flesh  and 

blood ; 
Or  p'raps  she  was  sick  and  in  lonely  despair — 
Was  dying  for  want  of  a  daughter's  kind  care; 
Thus  goaded,  her  search  with  new  vim  was  inspired, 
Till  ended  at  length  by  the  tidings  desired. 


10 

"Her  mother,"  she  learned  after  long  monihs  had  passed, 
"Was  now  in  a  mining  town  out  in  the  West. 
"She  had  married  again,  but  again  had  been  left 
"To  battle  alone,  of  her  husband  bereft. 
"As  a  boarding-house  keeper  she  made  both  ends  meet, 
"And  earned  for  her  household  sufficient  to  eat." 
So  ran  the  short  story  that  Helen  was  told : 

[  72  ] 


But  even  this  tale  for  her  waiting  consoled. 

At  once  she  decided,  and  pleading  was  vain, 

To  go  to  her  mother — to  start  life  again. 

Her  guardians  were  wealthy,  nor  needed  her  aid, 

Their  lot  her  extraction  but  helped  to  degrade; 

But  her  mother  was  old  and  in  need,  she  surmised. 

Her  place  was  beside  her  however  despised; 

To  her  strong  sense  of  duty  no  course  was  made  clear, 

Save  that  which  must  drag  her  from  all  she  held  dear. 

So  she  bade  all  the  friends  of  her  girlhood  goodbye ; 

O'er  the  haunts  of  her  childhood  cast  lingering  eye; 

And  then  came  the  parting  that  ended  it  all — 

As  westward  the  train  took  its  way  past  recall. 


f  I 


I 


ft 
m 


III 
m 


I  7l<  I 


i 


II 


PART  II 


.i  I 


I' 


III 


THE  PARTING  FROM   HUSBAND 


t   !  I 


In  the  West  with  its  hustle  and  bustle  and  boom; 
Its  promise  of  wealth  oft  redeemed  in  the  tomb; 
Its  glamour  to  all  who  adventure  may  seek; 
Its  lures  for  the  hardy;  its  graves  for  the  weak; 
No  wonder  that  Helen  found  everything  strange; 
That  she  was  not  prepared  to  encounter  such  change ; 
That  the  mountains  around  her  looked  threatening  and 

grim; 
That  the  houses  quite  failed  to  match  luxury's  whim : 
That  her  mother,  grown  used  to  a  mining  camp  life — 
To  its  dissolute  men  and  its  brawling  and  strife, — 
Had  lost  all  the  culture  her  girlhood  had  known, — 
Was  coarse  and  repulsive  to  even  har  own. 
And  received  the  young  girl,  who  had  come  to  her  roof 
As  a  truant  who  needed  not  love — but  reproof. 
Yet  Helen  was  plucky.     Determined  to  stay, — 
Her  pride  was  not  false  or  to  fancy  a  prey — 
She  smothered  her  longings  for  friends  in  the  East; 
Nor   would   she    .etnrn    (though    their   pleadings    in- 
creased) 
She  would  care  for  her  mother  and  lighten  her  load; 
And  take  all  reproaches  as  trials  from  God. 


(1 


(' 


But  if  her  reception  at  home  was  unkind. 

The  camp  made  atonement  that  left  her  resigned. 

A  spinster,  no  matter  her   .ge  or  her  class. 

In  a  camp  of  rough  miners  is  sure  to  surpass — 

Since  to  them  but  few  maidens  are  tempted  to  roam, 

So  lawless  their  customs,  so  makeshift  their  home; 

And  hence,  when  a  woman  of  Helen's  degree. 

Put  in  an  appearance,  unmarried  and  free. 

Determined  to  share  their  discomforts  and  lot. 

Not  a  man  in  the  crowd  but  would  gladly  have  fought 

[77] 


■'it\ 


ii 

jfc: 

If 


To  do  her  a  favor.    No  Empress  or  Queen 
Such  homage  or  loyalty  ever  has  seen, 
As  that  which  was  offered  this  maid  from  the  East, 
Whose  modest  demeanor  her  beauty  increased. 
Ere  a  month  had  elapsed  she  had  won  every  heart 
And  her  own  was  besieged  by  fell  arrow  and  dart.  ' 
AH  alike— from  the  owners  of  quartz  lode  and  mill 
To  the  humblest  employee— exerted  their  skill. 
And  tried  every  tactic  that  Cupid  has  shown, ' 
To  make  Helen's  bosom  respond  to  their  own. 


Though  suitors  to  Helen  vvere  nothing  so  rare— 
The  Eapt  like  the  West  know  when  maidens  are  fair- 
Yet  her  comfortless  home,  with  its  worry  and  toil. 
Craved  an  ear  that  would  listen  nor  seek  to  embroil 
Craved  an  arm  that  would  shield  and  protect  her  from 
harm — 

A  Heart  t'  at  responsive  her  own  might  make  warm; 
And  so  when  among  her  admirers  there  came 
A  gallant  young  fellow— N<;d  Walters  by  name— 
Who  was  "boss  of  the  shift"  at  a  neighboring  mine- 
Biddmg  fair  to  be  owner  if  worth  was  a  sign,— 
The  maiden  was  charmed,  as  the  bold  cavalier' 
So  frank  and  so  generous,  so  very  sincere- 
Daily  told  her  his  love  and  swore  to  be  true, 
She  listened  enraptured,  what  else  could  she  do? 
He  drank  some  they  said  and  had  gambled  at  whiles, 
But  pledged  with  such  promptness  in  range  of  her  smiles 
That  he'd  give  such  things  up  if  she'd  only  be  kind 
And  honor  his  suit  as  he  knew  her  inclined, 
That  at  last  she  rewarded  his  urgent  desire, 
And  Love  lit  his  torch  at  a  new  kindled  fire. 


[78] 


119        i 


How  vain  is  the  hope  that  essays  to  explain 

The  actions  of  lovers.    Their  pleasures  contain 

Too  much  that  is  perfect.     They  live  far  aloof, 

From  those  who  would  tangle  love's  heavenly  woof, 

By  trying  to  tell  to  the  brains  of  the  throng 

What  hearts  and  not  brains  have  attuned  into  song. 

To  Helen  and  Ned  a  new  life  had  begun; 

In  the  eyes  of  the  other  the  world  held  but  one ; 

Their  leisure  seemed  lost  or  too  tamely  bespent, 

If  it  kept  them  apart  from  life's  new  found  content; 

From  tender  embraces  that  silently  told 

The  story  that  telling  can  never  make  old; 

From  eyes  that  beamed  volumes,  from  hands  that  clasped 

tight; 
From  lingering  kisses  that  sealed  love's  delight. 
And  so  a  year  passed— none  too  quickly  for  Ned- 
Till  at  last  upon  Christmas  the  couple  were  wed. 
Rich  gifts  and  good  wishes  were  never  so  free ; 
Each  shop  was  left  vacant  the  night  of  the  spree; 
And  the  cot  to  which  Ned  and  his  lady  repaired, ' 
Was  filled  with  kind  tokens  of  friendship  they  shared. 


«1 


!      >, 


A  home  of  her  own— of  her  own  and  by  right- 
That  thought  for  the  troubles  gone  past  could  requite. 
And  Helen  was  happy  as  happy  could  be; 
While  Ned  fairly  fed  on  her  matronly  glee. 
No  task  that  could  add  to  their  contort  she  shirked, 
In  every  crevire  some  handiwork  lurked; 
Till  the  house  like  its  mistress  shone  happy  and  bright. 
Ana  to  Ned  was  a  haven  of  restful  delight. 
He  too  did  his  share  like  a  Trojan  at  first; 
He  seemed  to  be  weaned  of  his  early  time  thirst ; 
At  the  mine  his  promotion  was  never  so  sure. 


[79] 


HI 

J   11 


When  business  demanded  his  presence,  no  lure 
Could  entice  him  away ;  his  evenings  were  spent 
With  his  wife ;  she  was  law ;  without  her  consent 
No  action  seemed  honest ;  her  sweet  sunny  smile 
Was  all  that  he  asked  as  reward  for  his  toil. 
"In  pursuit  of  my  duty  how  little  I  thought," 
Said  Helen  as  often  her  husband  she  sought, 
"That  God  in  His  goodness  was  leading  me  true 
"To  home  and  the  Happiness  found  there  with  you." 


lit 


And  then  came  the  baby.    A  happier  man 

Than  Ned  none  could  find  from  Beersheba  to  Dan. 

He  talked  of  the  infant  from  morning  till  night ; 

To  call  it  "his  son"  was  his  greatest  delight. 

Till  Helen  felt  doubly  repaid  for  the  pain— 

'Twas  a  labor  of  love  her  quick  health  to  regain. 

And  she  too  was  proud  of  the  new  tie  that  bound 

Herself  to  her  lord;  the  child's  features  were  found 

Each  day  to  contain  some  new  traces  of  Ned ; 

His  hands  and  his  feet  and  his  sh(  ilders  and  head. 

Of  course  all  the  country  soon  heard  the  good  news 

A  baby  in  cam'^  could  not  fail  to  enthuse. 

The  miners  felt  tickled  beyond  all  restraint; 

Its  mother  they  deemed  little  less  than  a  saint; 

The  child  was  the  subject  of  measureless  praise; 

There  never  was  one  h-"!  such  innocent  ways; 

And  Ned  who  had  always  stood  in  with  the  men 

Now  towerec'  in  glory.    Again  and  again 

He  thought  his  'ight  hand  almost  ready  to  wilt, 

As  his  friends  tried  to  show  him  how  deeply  they  felt. 


So  great  the  excitement  at  last  had  become 
The  "boys"  of  his  "shift"  at  the  mine,  keeping 

[80] 


mum, 


.i„.ien]bled  and  planned  an  address  and  a  purse 

T-  ^ive  to  their  foreman.    In  language  quite  terse 

1  ii^y  told  of  his  good  points,  "his  courage  and  worth ;" 

They  mentioned  his  wife  as  "the  pride  of  his  hearth" 

And  then  in  due  order  their  statements  gre  .  w -Id 

As  they  lauded  to  heaven  his  wonderful  child. 

Vv  hen  all  was  p.'epared ;  the  camp  duly  lorewarned ; 

And  the  Poodle  Dog  tavern  with  bunting  adorned ; 

The  hero  was  asked  in  mysterious  wise 

To  come  the  next  evening  and  honor  "the  boys." 

He  did  as  they  wished — could  a  fellow  refuse? 

One  evening  to  please  them  his  wife  must  excuse. 

So  the  purse  was  presented;  the  document  read; 

And  toasts  with  the  old  fashioned  bumpers  were  made; 

Till  back  in  the  haunts  of  his  bachelor  days; 

Surrounded  by  scheming  good-nature  and  praise; 

He  soon  forgot  Helen  anci  baby  and  home 

In  noisiest  revel,  and  gambling,  and  rum. 


8 

Luck  seemed  to  stay  with  him  in  spite  of  i',:t  din ; 
^''*»en  he  threw  for  the  drinks  he  was  certain  to  win ; 
Ai  .lie  faro  board  too  his  kind  stars  he  could  thank; 
It  was  luck  and  not  playing  that  soon  "broke  the  bank." 
Inspired  hy  such  winnings  and  addled  by  wine, 
Next  day  he  determined  o  throw  up  the  mine; 
No  longer  he'd  slave  for  a  pittance  oo  small : 
iie'd  start  a  saloon  that  would  outdo  them  all. 
The  pleadings — the  tears  of  his  wife  were  in  vain; 
An  influence  tCrcater  than  hers  now  had  rein ; 
In  spite  of  her  horror  of  wine  and  its  woe, 
Of  all  her  long  efforts  its  shadows  tf    show. 
He  scoffed  "such  quite  womanish  worry"  to  scorn, 
And  sought  to  forget  her  sad  'ace  in  the  ho-  i. 
He  bought  out  the  Poodle  Dog;  treated  the  "joys; 
Reopened  the  place  with  great  flourish  and  noise; 

[  81  ] 


Went  deep  into  debt  to  replenish  its  stock 

And  feasted  all  "dead  heads"  who  'round  him  might 

flock. 
While  Helen,  dishonored,  new  swallowed  her  pride. 
And  womanlike  sought  her  home  troubles  to  hide. 


h|: 


Oh  Wine,  thou  deceiver — whose  flattering  smile. 
So  many  have  trusted,  till  fearless  of  guile 
They  bowed  at  thy  shrine  but  to  suffer  disgrace — 
How  long  must  we  yield  thee  the  pick  of  our  race? 
How  long  must  our  poets — our  heroes — our  kings— 
With  the  fame  of  whose  actions  the  universe  rings ; 
But  be  slaves  at  thy  footstool  and  dying  at  length. 
Fill    th<*    numberless    graves    that    are    proof    of 

strength  ? 
How  long  must  the  weak  ones,  already  too  low. 
Be  lured  by  thy  wiles  to  embrace  their  worst  foe? 
Or  the  rich  in  thy  worship  lose  all  they  possess. 
And  when  beggared,  still  serve  thee  to  soothe 

distress  ? 
'Tis  true  that  the  victims  of  sickness  and  grief, 
By  flying  to  thee  may  gain  present  relief; 
But  Death  and  Despair  when  they  forego  the:  ■  prey 
Too  often  but  gild  a  less  merciful  swrv. 
And  once  in  thy  power  oh  what  wrecks  we  become ! 
Forgetful  of  family— of  duty  we  rf^am; 
Still,  feebly  pretending  to  guide  our  affairs. 
We  sing  thee  the  solace — not  source  of  our  cares. 


thy 


their 


10 

The  road  to  the  Devil  is  slippery  and  steep, 
Ned's  fall  was  so  sudden  that  angels  might  weep. 
Inst''ad  of  enlarging  his  easy  won  trade; 
He  drank  up  his  profits  before  they  were  made; 

[  82] 


His  generous  nature  now  found  a  new  vent : 
He  '.reated  his  friends  before  paying  the  rent. 
Till  creditors,  warned  by  his  high-h?nded  way, 
Came  down  on  his  stock  like  i  hawk  on  its  pi  y 
And  left  him  a  pauper;  in  shame  and  despair 
He  wandered  from  home  leaving  Helen  to  care 
for  herself  and  the  haby.    But  once  he  returned, 
To  take  from  her  all  that  her  savings  had  earned, 
Under  plea  of  reforming.    The  next  that  she  heard 
He  had  drifted  from  town— neither  sending  her  woru 
N'or  money— nor  letter  to  tell  where  he  went : 
And  this  was  the  grave  of  her  wedded  content. 
Her  mother  had  died  ere  the  baby  was  born ; 
There  was  not  a  person  to  whom  she  c      d  turn; 
True  pride  with  misfortune  is  ever  increased; 
To     '1  such  disaster  she  could  not  write  East. 


I  83 


t- 

[it 
il 

li 


PART  III 


in 


): 


THE   PARTING  FROM   HONOR. 

Hail  Poverty  grim!    Is  there  earthly  born  wile, 
Exerted,  can  win  those  who  serve  thee  to  smile? 
Or  drive  those,  who  glory  in  forcing  recruits 
To  march  in  thy  army,  to  other  pursuits? 
Why  is  it  that  over  our  great  smiling  land. 
Thy  legions  to  every  far  corner  extend? 
And  that  in  the  midst  of  such  fabulous  wealth, 
The  poor  eke  scant  living  by  sweat,  toil  and  stealth  ? 
Alas !    No  one  knows.    But  the  struggle  goes  on ; 
And  millions  are  forced  to  face  poverty's  frown. 
Poor  Helen,  deserted,  yet  nursing  vague  hope. 
Now  seeks  in  a  town  on  Pacific's  broad  slope 
To  earn  for  her  baby  a  right  to  its  life. 
And  liv..ig  for  both  in  a  city's  keen  strife. 
The  mining  camp  offered  no  honest  retreat; 
She  dared  not  stay  longer.    Dependence  is  sweet 
When  the  bond  that  inspired  it  is  legal  and  pure; — 
All  other  dependence  suspicions  ensure. 
So  Helen,  unwilling  to  risk  her  fair  name, 
To  dangers  more  deadly  unwittingly  came. 


i 


I' 


i- 


Too  little  she  knew  of  a  city's  cold  fare; 

Of  the  cruel  reception  poor  strangers  meet  there; 

From  infancy  used  to  a  gossipy  ville, 

Where  each  one  his  neighbor's  disasters  could  tell, 

And  every  newcomer  is  instantly  known ; 

That  never  before  was  she  so  much  alone. 

In  reply  to  her  suit  for  permission  to  toil, 

The  citizens  shun  her  as  one  who  might  soil ; 

Her  baby,  her  youth,  and  her  shabby  attire, 

Seem  tell-tale  detractions  to  those  who  might  hire. 

She  knows  herself  honest ;  but  goaded  by  pride, 

Her  tale  of  misfortune  she  struggles  to  hide, 

[87] 


9 

t 


Ana  begs  to  be  tested;  but  vain  is  her  plea: 
The  laws  of  the  city  have  no  such  decree. 
In  growing  distress  days  and  weeks  pass  her  by. 
In  vain  her  petition!     In  vain  her  clear  eye! 
Her  modest  demeanor  could  little  avail, 
An  angel  might  seek  for  their  pity  and  fail, 
A  reference,  the  edicts  of  town  life  require. 
To  trust  girls  without  one  is  playing  with  fire. 


Thus  friendless  and  fearful  one  morning  by  chance 
•^he  picked  up  a  paper ;  her  hap-hazard  glance 
Soon  fell  on  the  notice :    "House-keeper  required ;" 
"One  willing  to  go  to  the  country  desired." 
She  hoped  While  she  feared  as  with  prayers  for  success 
She  hurried  at  once  to  the  lawyer's  address ; — 
For  a  lawyer  had  sigmd  it;— one  Ducket,  by  name- 
And  when  to  his  office  she  presently  came 
She  found  him  at  desk.    He  was  handsome  and  fair ; 
And  rose  at  her  entrance  with  studious  care ; 
Politely  assisting  the  girl  to  a  seat, 
He  talked  of  the  weather— the  dust  in  the  street— 
And  then  when  her  errand  she  humbly  confessed, 
He  seemed  so  astonished  at  such  a  request- 
So  sorry  that  fortune  had  brought  her  so  low- 
That  Helen  was  conquered.    Tears  started  to  flow 
And  telling  her  story,  her  wrongs  and  her  care, 
Her  long  search  for  work  in  face  of  despair. 
She  begged  for  employment.    The  lawyer  seemed  moved 
And  told  her  at  once  her  request  was  approved. 


Apparently  shocked  at  the  husband's  vile  course 
He  promptly  advised  an  immediate  divorce— 

[  88  ] 


The  chances  looked  grave  that  he'd  ha'row  her  peace 

By  demands  for  her  earnings.    Without  a  release 

He  might  kidnap  the  child  and  by  holding  it  still, 

Thus  make  her  submit  to  his  profligate  will. 

She  shudders  at  first  at  the  lawyer's  advice 

"Perhaps  he'd  reform,"  she  rejoined  in  a  trice; 

But  her  mothers-heart  quailed  at  the  possible  loss 

Of  the  one  certain  solace  in  every  cross — 

Of  the  child  she  had  borne  and  had  held  at  her  breast— 

Of  the  sweet  little  babe  she  so  often  caressed. 

And  then  first  remembering  her  penniless  state 

"Divorces  cost  money,"  she  ventured  with  weight. 

But  the  lawyer  quite  eagerly  hastened  to  add: 

"If  you  wish  a  divorce  I'll  be  only  too  glad 

To  see  that  you  get  one;"  then  turning  around 

He  searched  till  a  pass  to  the  country  he  found, 

And  handing  it  to  her  desired  her  to  come, 

By  first  train  tomorrow  to  see  her  new  home. 


I 


Relieved  and  delighted  by  fortunes  new  flight;— 

At  the  change  to  a  safe  from  a  beggarly  plight ; 

No  wonder  the  morrow  found  Helen  on  hand 

All  ready  to  learn  her  new  duties  as  planned. 

The  out-of-town  villa — a  lovely  retreat 

Where  the  well-to-do  lawyer  escaped  from  the  heat 

And  bustle  of  business — was  easily  found, 

And  soon  as  its  keeper,  glad  Helen  was  crowned. 

Her  thoughtful  employer— unmarried  she  learned — 

Having  waited  her  coming  seemed  deeply  concerned : 

"That  at   times   she'd   be   lonesome   so    far    from   the 

town?" 
But  she  gratefully  answered:  "'Neath  poverty's  frown 
"Those   who   sue   should    be   thankful   whatever   their 

fate." 
And  so  without  further  ado  or  debate 

[89  ] 


The  girl  was  installed.    Her  duties  were  light. 
The  house  was  not  large  but  was  airy  and  bright. 
And  with  a  home-pride  still  as  strong  as  of  old 
Her  care  in  its  neatness  and  comfort  soon  told. 
Her  baby  was  with  her  and  time  slipped  away ; 
While  trouble  a  moment  retired  from  its  prey. 


From  the  first,  too,  the  lawyer  was  gentle  and  kind; 

His  refinement  recalled  Redfern's  guests  to  her  mind. 

He  studied  at  all  times  to  lighten  her  load, 

And  won  her  respect  by  his  decorous  mode. 

He  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  pleasing  her  child; 

And  grew  so  enraptured,  if  baby  but  smiled, 

The  heart  of  the  mother — impulsive  and  warm — 

By  such  benefaction  was  taken  by  storm. 

She  thought  her  employer  above  all  deceit; 

His  generous  treatment  of  her  seemed  replete 

With  loftiest  motives  of  virtue  and  truth ; 

Zhe  honored  him  for  it;  undreaming  of  ruth 

She  showed  by  each  action  her  grateful  desire 

To  serve  him  from  choice  and  not  merely  for  hire. 

She  thought  of  her  lot  ere  he  came  to  her  aid; 

Of  the  cruel  aspersions  all  others  had  made; 

Of  his  ready  acceptance  of  her  and  her  suit; 

Of  his  offer  of  help  should  her  husband  dispute 

Her  right  to  the  child;  of  his  subsequent  care, 

Till  no  act  of  service  seemed  more  than  his  share. 


Observing  his  power  o'er  his  housekeeper's  heart 
The  lawyer,  now  sure  of  his  well-concealed  art. 
Increased  his  dark  wiles  and  with  ardor  more  keen. 
Hung  long  on  her  smiles  with  a  lover's  rapt  mien. 
Each  hour  that  was  spent  in  his  out-of-town  home 

I  90  ] 


Was  given  to  Helen ;  and,  no  longer  dumb 
He  told  of  his  love — of  his  passion  to  please 
Her  eyes  of  all  others— that  she  held  the  keys 
To  all  his  ambitions.     In  accents  that  burned 
He  begged  her  to  tell  if  his  love  were  returned? 
Returned !    What  a  question  to  ask  her,  she  thought ; 
As  she  artlessly  knelt  and  thanked  God  for  her  lot. 
But  what  about  Ned?    She  would  need  a  divorce? 
"Oh  "^hat,"  Ducket  said,  "a  mere  matter  of  course — 
"Could  be  had   for  the  asking.     Some  months  might 

elapse — 
"Long  months  for  them  both  they  might  be— unless— 

p'raps — 
"Why  of  course — yes ;  a  contract  now  privately  signed, 
"By  his  knowledge  of  law  would  quite  legally  bind." 
And  ready  to  trust  to  his  honor  her  life 
She  signed  what  she  thought  made  her  once  more  a  wife. 


\n 


8 

Again  on  fair  Helen  a  bright  future  dawned; 
Her  fortunes  again  wielded  hope-giving  wand. 
Wrapped  up  in  the  love  of  '•he  man  she  adored; 
To  wealth  and  its  luxuries  safely  restored; 
She  pictured  herself  on  an  equal  once  more 
With  friends  of  her  childhood — her  guardians  of  yore. 
One  only  complaint  against  fate  she  could  rind: 
The  lawyer,  though  still  as  indulgent  and  kind, 
Since  Summer  was  waning  and  Autumn  clouds  rolled. 
Spent  more  of  his  evenings  in  town  than  of  old. 
His  business  was  booming  he  gave  as  his  plea. 
Without  losing  clients  he  could  not  get  free. 
And  dreamless  of  danger,  nor  wishing  to  seem 
A  foe  to  his  business,  she  oft  changed  the  theme. 
At  times  he  would  tell  her  without  her  request 
How  the  suit  for  divorcement  had  lately  progressed 
Until  by  such  art  to  security  lulled — 

r  91  ] 


^1       ^11 


Her  instincts  for  safety  so  constantly  dulled— 

She  lived  on  in  ignorant  quiet  and  bliss; 

With  naught  to  distract  but  his  passionate  kiss. 


But  soon  Helen  noticed  her  partner  grown  strange; 

Nor  could  she  account  for  the  obvious  chii  ge; 

Still  trusting  and  patient  she  strove  as  before 

To  call  forth  the  love  that  seemed  lessening  in  store. 

Long  weeks  often  passed  her,  but  lonely  and  drear 

The  villa  without  him  each  day  would  appear ; 

Till  bade  he  would  come  and  with  ready  excuse 

Make  meagre  amends  for  his  growing  abuse. 

She  often  in  secret  would  wonder  and  pray 

How  soon  the  divorce  would  her  troubles  allay; 

For  when  it  v/as  gained  the  young  lawye  •  had  said 

They'd  then  in  the  city  be  publicly  wed. 

But  woe  to  her  hopes  while  awaiting  that  day 

C'le  chanced  on  a  paper  in  which,  with  display, 

A  notice  appeared:  "Lawyer  Ducket  engaged; 

"A  society  belle  has  his  ardor  assuaged ; 

"Miss  Blank  wears  the  barrister's  tale-telling  ring— 

"Will  join  hands  and  hearts  at  the  opening  of  Spring.' 

Like  a  flash  was  explained  all  his  treatment  of  late ; 

And  she  was  his  victim— Oh  God!    What  a  fate! 


10 

Half  crazed  by  the  knowledge  her  honor  was  lost; 
Resolved  on  revenge  at  no  matter  what  cost; 
From  the  cottage  she  rushed  like  a  sp'rit  of  flame- 
Caught  the  train  for  the  city  as  soon  as  it  came— 
And,  once  at  the  station,  the  foremost  to  land ; 
The  ill-fated  paper  still  clutched  in  her  hand; 
She  flew  to  the  spot  where  so  lately  in  want 
She  had  wept  in  her  trouble  while  begging  a  grant 

[92] 


of  labor.    His  studied  demeanor  of  truth, 
As  pit!lessl>   he  fore-blasted  her  youth, 
Came  back  to  the  girl  now  abandoned  to  shame 
And  rallied  her  will  to  revenge  her  lost  fame. 
The  lawyer  was  startled  as  near  him  she  stood . 
Her  eyes  blazing  fire  could  betoken  no  good ; 
But  when  by  her  queries  he  saw  she  knew  all 
His  smile  of  derision  too  well  proved  her  fall ; 
So  grasping  a  sheath  knife  close  hid  in  her  breast, 
She  raised  it  to  heaven  with  frenzy  fired  zest; 
And  ere  he  could  move  the  keen  steel  to  avoid 
It  had  sunk  to  its  handle  deep— deep  in  his  side. 


PART  IV 


hr\ 


THE  LAST  PARTING  OF  ALL. 

Oh  why,  in  a  world  where  divinity  rules, 
Are  the  pure  and  the  virtuous  only  the  tools 
Of  designing   liiease?    Oh  why  do  the  good. 
When  ensnared  by  the  wiles  they  long  have  withstood  ; 
So  often  receive  to  increase  their  despair 
Alone  the  reward  that  their  tempters  should  share? 
Oh  why  do  the  vicious  so  often  succeed. 
While  those  that  they  ruin  are  ruined  indeed? 
And  why  by  mankind  is  success  deemed  a  crown 
That  hides  with  its  lustre  the  helpless  cast-down  ? 
But  vain  are  such  questions.     Xo  answer  is  heard. 
The  echo  to  taunt  us  throws  back  each  vague  word. 
And  the  world  still  goes  on  putting  virtue  to  rout 
While  the  lov-lived  their  victories  lustili  shout. 
The  --venge  that  his  victim  had  hoped  to  obtain 
Fell  short  of  its  object ;  for  wounded— not  slain— 
The  lawyer  was  able  to  doctor  his  hurt. 
And  set  the  Jaw's  minions  upon  the  alert 
To  capture  the  woman,  whose  vengeance-tossed  act 
He  knew  had  thus  lessened  her  power  to  distract. 


And  Helen  was  found  at  the  out-of-town  cot 
Embracing  her  baby     When  led  from  the  spot 
She  went  as  one  dazed ;  of  her  crime  scarce  aware 
Her  actions   betokened  but  motherly  care. 
At  the  prison  she  made  no  endeavor  to  plead. 
Rut  nervously  owned  to  committmg  the  deed. 
She  had  not  a  friend  within  thousands  of  miles ; 
Since  reaching  the  city  her  favors  and  smiles 
\yere  centered  and  lavished  on  him  whose  deceit 
Now  left  her  unfriended  injustice  to  meet. 
At  her  trial  all  eyes  turned  with  curious  stare 
To  "size  up"  the  prisoner;  her  tremulous  air, 

[97] 


But  heightened  the  wonder — it  was  her  disguise 
To  lighten  her  sentence  some  spolte  their  surprise 
That  such  a  dissembler  had  not  done  more  harm; 
Her  disjointed  story  increased  the  alarm. 
To  think  one  so  fallen  should  dare  to  pretend 
That  the  popular  lawyer  had  aught  to  defend. 
"A  twelvemonth  in  jail,"  said  the  judge  in  disgust, 
And  quick  into  prison  poor  Helen  was  thrust. 


I 


Once  safely  removed  from  the  Court  room's  cold  glare 
To  iron  barred  dungeon,  dark,  gruesome  and  bare; 
The  sore  stricken  woman — forsaken — despised — 
Man's  much  boasted  justice  at  last  realized. 
For  now  while  condemned  in  a  prison's  ill  fame 
To  think  of  her  wrongs,  of  her  soul-searing  shame, 
Of  the  virtuous  hopes  that  had  led  her  astray, 
Of  the  fiend  who  had  studied  to  make  her  his  prey: 
That  fiend  was  permitted  to  see  her  confined, 
While  he  went  abroad  further  victims  to  bind. 
What  guilt  had  been  done  in  her  pre-natal  state 
That  she  must  atone  to  the  sleuthhound  of  Fate? 
And  why  if  her  lot  was  to  ceaselessly  mourn 
And  suffer  such  pangs,  had  she  ever  been  born  ? 
But  the  dull  dreary  days  followed  others  along — 
Still  mourning  she  mingled  with  misery's  throng. 
Her  case  with  the  worst  of  the  fallen  was  classed ; 
Her  cell  mates  were  always  the  lewd  and  unchaste. 
And  Helen,  once  pride  of  a  millionaire's  home. 
Through    duty — ^through    gratefulness — thus    low    had 
come. 


But  not  yet  bereft  of  all  ties  to  the  past, 
Her  baby  had  with  her  to  prison  been  cast, 
And  Helen  rejoiced  that  she  still  had  her  boy- 

[  98] 


A  solace  in  sorrow,  her  last  only  joy — 

His  two  years  of  life  in  a  fond  mother's  arms, 

Had  nurtured  her  love  and  so  heightened  his  charms, 

That  his  glee  banished  trouble  from  even  a  cell, 

And  to  memory  of  wrong  was  an  unfailing  knell. 

By  keeper  and  convict  alike  was  he  crowned 

Till  lord  of  the  prison  he  soon  knew  no  bound. 

But  even  this  solace  Fate  ordered  removed; 

Such  lisping  and  laughter  jail  rigor  reproved: 

And  so  with  a  fever  the  child  was  laid  low ; 

The  damp  of  a  prison  is  certain  though  slow. 

He  steadily  sickened  while  frantic  with  fear 

The  mother  sent  heavenward  prayer  after  prayer. 

But  all  to  no  purpose — her  nursing  was  vain — 

Despite  all  her  pleadings  the  baby  was  ta'en 

And  deep  in  the  jail  yard  in  prison  garb  dressed 

She  saw  her  dead  darling  laid  rudely  to  rest. 


I 

I 


I; 

in 


V\ 


The  baby  was  buried.     Now  sullen  with  grief ; 
Weighed  down  by  her  loss  without  hope  of  relief; 
Unnoticed  by  Helen  her  sentence  grew  less 
Till  soon  it  was  ended;  yet  sad  to  confess 
She  went  forth  to  freedom  a  prisoner  still; 
For  who  would  employ  her?  and  penniless — ill — 
She  wandered  unfriended;  too  high-bred  to  beg. 
At  poverty's  fountain  she  drank  to  the  dreg. 
Her  pride  and  her  hunger  both  gnawed  at  her  heart, 
She  hated  the  world  and  its  efforts  to  thwart; 
She  could  not  grow  humble;  she  felt  herself  true, 
What  deed  had  she  done  that  real  virtue  might  rue? 
A  victim  of  chance  siie  had  always  meant  well — 
Her  credulous  actions  this  story  could  tell. 
But  now  cast  adrift  without  shelter  or  food, 
With  no  one  to  look  to,  in  desperate  mood, 
She  prayed  she  might  die  as  she  faintingly  lay. 


[99] 


'  i 

■  '    Ul 


But  fellow  unfortunates  passing  her  way 
Took  pity  on  one  who  their  cell  mate  had  been 
And  saved  her  to  suffer  an  anguish  more  keen. 


6 

'Tis  strange  but  too  true  that  when  indigence  pleads, 
Or  shows  in  affliction  its  much-pressing  needs, 
When  pain  and  disease  flaunt  their  wounds  to  the  eye, 
And  wretched  misfortune  sends  forth  its  keen  cry, 
The  first  to  the  rescue  are  not  those  who  shine 
In  lofty  domed  churches  a*;  jivers  divine 
(For  sad  to  relate  though  intentions  are  good 
The  pious  and  needy  seem  ever  at  feud). 
But  the  fallen — the  so-called  outsider  to  grace — 
More  often  the  milk  of  true  kindness  displays. 
And  when  these  can  heal  the  unfortunate's  sores, 
No  critical  question  the  sufferer  bores; 
But  sharing  their  purses  the  starving  to  save. 
They  rescue  or  smoothe  a  descent  to  the  grave. 
So  Helen  discovered,  as  hungry  and  weak — 
The  sweat  of  a  fever  grown  cold  on  her  cheek — 
She  finds  food  and  cheer  in  the  Magdalenes'  cot 
And  sympathy  too  when  they  hear  her  hard  lot. 
Reviving,  she  shudders  at  thoughts  of  the  shame 
Yet  gratefully  hastens  to  share  their  ill  fame. 


And  once  she  has  stepped   from  the  straight  narrow 

path, 
The  Devil  for  long  fruitless  temptings  grown  wrath. 
Made  swift  her  descent  to  the  depths  of  that  hell 
Whose  soul-killing  horrors  the  vicious  know  well : 
Where  woman — the  ci-devant  victims  of  lust — 
Become  the  seducers,  and  ground  in  the  dust, 
Drag  down  to  their  level  too  curious  yot'th — 

[  100] 


I 


A  luscious  revenge  for  their  own  loss  of  truth— 
Where  maddened  by  wine  and  unconscious  of  self, 
Their  God-given  bodies  are  bartered  for  pelf; 
Till  passion  perverted  and  hardened  in  sin 
Obscenity's  laurels  they  eagerly  win ; 
Where  wildest  of  orgies  by  unforeseen  stealth 
Play  havoc  with  virtue,  with  fortune,  with  health; 
Where  loathsome  diseases  requite  the  embrace 
And  honor  to  bestial  scheming  gives  place. 
Determined  her  life  shall  be  merry  if  brief 
Here  Helen  in  drunkenness  deadens  her  grief 
And  dreading  r-"iorse— from  its  pathway  to  fly- 
She  soon  went  i.ic  pace  that  to  stop  means— to  die. 


1- 


8 

But  vain  was  such  flight.  Though  our  speed  like  the  wind 

Leaves  every  conceivable  rival  behind ; 

Pursued  by  our  conscience  what  matters  the  pace  ? 

Its  voice  at  the  finish  will  portion  the  race. 

There  is  no  escape  from  that  censuring  slave: 

Wrong  acts  still  reproach  at  the  brink  of  the  grave. 

So  Helen  who  sought  in  the  maddening  din 

Surcease  from  her  sorrow— relief  from  her  sin, 

Found  riot  and  revel  a  dangerous  shoal 

Whose  rough  ragged  edges  tore  deep  in  her  soul. 

She  daily,  while  striving  her  conscience  to  thwai.. 

Grew  weaker  and  weaker— a  worm  at  her  heart. 

By  chance,  as  she  sickened— death  counting  the  days, 

A  newspaper  item  attracted  her  gaze; 

It  told  that  her  husband  (she  knew  by  the  name) 

Ne.  —sobered  and  anxious  to  win  back  his  fame 

Was  toiling  one  day  in  a  mine's  rocky  slopes 

(Doubtless  thinking  of  her  and  rekindling  hopes) 

When  a  boulder,  unnoticed,  above  him  gave  away 

And  Ned  and  his  hopes  were  its  taciturn  prey. 


[  101  ] 


The  news  of  his  fate  brought  regret  to  the  wife 

He  long  had  abandoned  to  struggle  and  strife. 

"Poor  Ned!"  she  exclaimed  as  the  tears  trickled  down, 

"Poor  Ned !— and  the  baby !    Thank  God  they  are  gone ; 

"Had    they    lived— Ah,    their    death    is    a    heaven-sent 

boon"— 
And  at  thoughts  of  her  ruin  she  sank  in  a  swoon. 
Her  moments  are  numbered;  she,  too,  soon  must  die, 
Her  baby — her  husband — are  hovering  nigh: 
But  no !  they  are  gone ;  through  the  time  gathered  haze 
Her  memory  flits  to  the  golden  rayed  days, 
When  at  "Redfern"   she  romped  with  her  childhood's 

fast  ffiends; 
While  near  her  her  Governess  watchful  attends. 
She  sees  the  old  Hudson,  majestic  and  grave, 
Flow  prouder  than  ever  as  deep  in  its  wave 
She  dips  with  her  comrades.    Her  pony  is  there. 
And  perched  on  its  back  she  is  cleaving  the  air: 
The  meadows  all  smile  as  they  used  to  of  old 
When    searching    for    wild    flowers    among   them    she 

strolled ; 
And  even  pet  song  birds  still  gladden  the  breeze 
From  boughs  she  remembers  in  early-loved  trees. 


10 

She  turns  from  the  vision  with  tremor  and  start ; 

Her  breath  grown  more  heavy — more  feeble  her  heart ; 

The  end  is  approaching;  from  dreams  of  her  past 

To  wake  to  surroundings  so  low  and  debased, 

Excites  a  remorse  which  though  tardy  is  true. 

She  shudders  at  scenes  that  now  stifle  her  view ; 

Around  her  all  objects  to  vileness  entice ; 

The  air  that  she  gasps  for,  seems  laden  with  vice ; 

Till  shamc-tos.sed  and  wretched,  nor  able  to  rc>.l. 


[  102] 


'Where  soon  all  oblivious  of  questioning  eyes 
In  gratitude  smiling  she  peacefully  dies." 


Page  103. 


She  sobs  in  her  anguish  a  dying  request : 
"Oh  take  me,"  she  pleads,  "from  this  chamber  of  sin ; 
"Let  me  once  more  see  heaven — breathe  purity  in ; 
"Let  me  die  out  of  sight  of  this  loathsome  retrent — 
"Take  me  anywhere — anywhere — out  in  the  street." 
Her  face  showing  plainly  how  real  is  each  word ; 
Her  pleadings  by  soul-stricken  sisters  are  heard ; 
And  out  to  a  grass  plot,  some  distance  away, 
They  carried  her  form  as  it  languidly  lay; 
Where  soon  all  oblivious  of  questioning  eyes 
In  gratitude  smiling  she  peacefully  dies. 


[   1(13 


FINALE 

In  penitent  agony  gasping  for  breath, 

The  Magdalene  lies  on  her  pillow  of  death ; 

Above  her  no  roof  hides  the  fathomless  sky ; 

Around  her  a  crowd  stands  with  wondering  eye — 

Now  pushing — now  crushing — to  see  the  young  face 

Of  suftering  sister  so  fallen  from  grace. 

Yet  she  heeds  not  the  mob  or  its  curious  stare; 

She  heeds  not  its  strife  in  her  struggle  for  air; 

She  has  done  with  the  world  and  its  worry  and  woe ; 

She  has  done  with  the  causes  that  laid  her  so  low : 

Away  from  the  haunts  of  her  shame  and  her  sin, 

She  looks  jup  at  Heaven  its  mercy  to  win. 

And  Heaven  rewards  her:  before  her  glad  eye 

The  angels  are  hovering  to  bear  her  on  high ; 

The  jeers  and  the  pity  and  oaths  of  the  throng 

Are  but  notes  in  her  ears  of  celestial  song. 

"Who  is  she  ?    "What's  happened  ?"  the  queries  fast  f 

"A  prostitute  dying,"  new  voices  reply; 

"Is  that  all?"  say  some  and  continue  their  way; 

While  others,  more  curious,  as  vulgarly  stay. 

But  no !    It  is  not  all :  That  fast  fleeting  soul 

Is  one  of  too  many  to  reach  the  same  goal ; 

On  well  beaten  path;  o'er  the  same  deadly  snare; 

By   circumstance — cruelty — falsehood — despair. 

But  soft!     It  is  over;  life's  hour-glass  is  run; 

Now  Death  has  completed  what  man  had  begun. 

May  He,  whose  inscrutable  purposes  stand — 

Whose  wisdom  the  fall  of  credulity  planned, — 

Now  welcome  her  home  to  that  faraway  shore. 

Where  wrong  cannot  anchor  and  shame  is  no  more. 


[  104] 


JIM 
OR  BORN  TO  BE  LYNCHED 


BEGirN  IN  Paris,  Fkance 
IN  1897 


i 


i 


■'  u 


1    .  :  ll 


i^ 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


'T'HERE  are  a  number  of  the  United  States  of 
*  Anierica  that  refuse  to  recognize  a  marriage  be- 
tween persons  of  white  and  negro  blood  even  to  the 
eighth  generation.  It  is  in  those  States  particularly 
(although  there  are  startling  exceptions)  that  lynch- 
ing is  prevalent.  The  recollection  of  slavery  days,  the 
poverty  and  consequent  ignorance  of  the  blacks,  the 
high  standard  of  purity  among  most  Southern  white 
women  and  the  chivalry  of  Southern  white  men  ai  a 
whoic*  work  together  to  make  lynching  possible. 

No  n:ob  can  uo  justice,  however.  And  although  pub- 
lic opinion  in  the  South  proclaims  immediate  death  as 
the  only  way  to  punish  the  far  too  frequent  occurrence 
of  white  women  being  waylaid  and  ravished  by  de- 
praved negroes,  still  a  moment's  thought  should  con- 
vince anyone  that  lawlessness  cannot  make  people  law 
abiding.  The  author  recalls  many  years  of  life  in  the 
Southern  States  as  the  happiest  years  in  his  memory. 
Southerners  are  the  very  soul  of  honor.  Their  very 
excuse  of  lynching,  "that  it  is  to  preserve  the  chastity 
of  their  women,"  proves  that  the  light  that  leads  astray 
is  light  from  heaven. 

But  lynching  is  a  blot  on  any  civilization.  Give  it 
an  inch  and  it  takes  the  proverbial  ell.  Its  appetite 
cannot  be  satisfied  and,  once  permitted,  no  man's  life  is 
safe.  Suspicion,  to  the  mob,  is  sufficient  proof  and  in 
every  death  without  a  trial  we  are  making  all  too  ready 
the  noose  that  may  ultimately  tighten  on  our  own 
neck.  If  the  following  story  will  assist  to  show  the 
injustice  of  hanging  even  guilty  negroes  without  a 
trial,  the  author  will  feel  a  thousand  times  repaid  for 
any  effort  he  has  made. 


i  I 


I  Ml 

1  !' 


.1 

j 


HART  I 


r 


i 


THE  DEATH  OF  JIM'S  FATHER. 

The  world  is  dreaming.     Fror    Mic  uarkn-s?  deep 

No  sound  is  heard  to  stir  its     eavy  sleep. 

Save  when  scared  fledgling  fr  in  o'ercrowd  d  nest 

Makes  sudden  clamor  for  protcii)^  Iri-ist, 

But  even  that  grows  still.     New  quiet  creeps; 

Again  the  darkness  its  lone  vigil  keeps. 

Till  through  the  pines  a  mist  begins  to  rise 

That  casts  dim  halo  o'er  the  orient  skies ; 

Then  wakes  the  cock  whose  clarion  voice  loud  rings 

And  cleaves  the  silence  that  to  nighttime  clings; 

And   from  the  summits  of  a  dozen  hills 

Long  answering  chorus  through  the  dawning  shrills. 

Thus  roused,  the  watchdog,  wondering  at  the  light. 

Bays  at  the  shadows  of  retreating  night ; 

While  grumpy  frogs,  disturbed  from  slumbers  sweet, 

And  twittering  birds  and  squeaking  mammals  greet 

The  golden  rays,  that  soon  from  out  the  East 

Bear  far  the  blessings  of  earth's  great  high  priest. 

The  flowers  and  trees  refreshed  and  decked  with  dew, 

The  waving  crops  now  smiling  on  the  view. 

The  busy  bees  that  vie  with  zephyrs  light 

To  steal  the  fragrance  from  the  roses  bright ; 

These  all  awakened  strive  with  man  to  say 

Tlieir  grateful  praises  to  the  God  of  day. 


But  on  the  hillside,  near  yon  winding  way. 
What  is  that  object  stops  the  glistening  ray? 
What  is  it  dangles  in  the  mornin'r  air 
From  bough  where  curious  chipmunks  stop  to  stare; 
While  lowering  ravens  change  their  headlong  flight, 
Appalled  and  startled  by  the  uncanny  sight? 
'Tis  but  a  negro.     Should  our  hearts  beat  fast 
Heranse  some  erring  slave  has  breathed  his  last? 
Such  scene  means  justice  to  a  Southern  eye — 


[  111   ] 


ii 


When  blacks  grow  human  they  should  surely  die. 
Shine  on,  fair  sun;  pierce  through  the  crumbling  clay 
And  light  the  vultures  to  their  ready  prey. 


#  #  *  *  * 


On  yonder  road  that  skirts  the  deep  ravine 
And  climbs  from  valley  to  a  plateau  green ; 
How  calm  the  prospect  o'er  the  verdant  heath! 
How  fierce  and  threatening  yawns  the  gulf  beneath ! 
But  up  the  road  a  team  is  coming  now ; 
Hear  how  the  jolts  resound  from  hillocks'  brow; 
See,  too,  how  carelessly  the  rein  is  held; 
Surely  such  folly  is  by  fate  impelled. 
For  hold!  a  twig,  loosed  by  the  fitful  breeze. 
Drops  to  the  ground  across  the  horses  knees; 
Heaven  help  the  inmates:  see  the  coursers  rear: 
Hear  how  they  pant  with  lightning- footed  fear. 
Now  see  the  driver  in  the  buggy  stand. 
One  rein  alonfe  is  in  his  ner\   less  hand. 
Ah!  see  he  jumps — nor  hears  his  comrade's  cry- 
Backward  he  springs  and  leaves  the  girl  to  die. 
Over  the  gorge  two  wheels  already  lean; 
Still  plunge  the  horses  in  their  terror  keen; 
Now  hear  the  shrieks  that  pierce  the  dusty  gloom : 
"Merciful  God  avert  this  awful  doom." 


God  hears  the  cry :  for  o'er  the  rugged  height 
Quick  peers  a  head  that  sees  the  fearful  plight: 
Down,  down  he  comes ;  from  root  to  rock  he  creeps 
Over  the  buggy's  back  he  nimbly  leaps: 
Now  in  the  place  where  late  the  driver  stood; 
Now   daring  dangers  that  another   rued; 
Watch  how  he  clambers  for  the  missing  rein; 
See!  he  has  found  it  and  is  back  again; 
Back  with  the  maiden  whom  he  surely  saves — 
A  man  is  master  of  the  fate  he  braves. — 

[  112] 


ilie  frightened  steeds  now  once  again  in  hand 

Have  reached  the  summit  of  the  tableland ; 

Where,  with  a  steady  power  behind  the  reins, 

Nothing  but  memory  of  the  plight  remains. 

And  who  is  iie  that  hazards  life  and  limb? 

Who  first  dares  Death,  then  foils  the  Monster  grim? 

Is  he  a  scion  of  some  noble  line? 

Virtues  unnumbered  through  this  action  shine. 

Xo!  though  the  act  bespeaks  a  hero  brave 

The  face  says  only;     He's  a  negro  slave. 


»  «  «  *  * 


Weeks  have  slipped  by  since  that  eventful  day ; 

Oblivion  marks  the  feat  an  easy  prey. 

All  now  forget  the  daring  darkey's  deed; — 

'Twas  but  a  trifling  service  due  in  need. 

Had  he  been  white,  the  papers  through  the  land 

Might  have  extolled  to  sky  tV"»  ^earless  stand. 

But  ink  is  dear :  more  won  nes  it  craves : 

Who  cares  to  read  exploits  (imon  slaves? 

Yet  there  is  one  remembers  well  that  ride ; 

One  grateful  heart  yields  nothing  to  its  pride ; 

The  girl  whose  life  hung  on  the  single  thread; — 

Had  he  not  acted  she  would  now  be  dead — 

Gives  to  the  hero  what  by  right  is  due ; 

She  loves  him  for  the  act  and  love;   him  true. 

But  oft,  alas,  our  loves  our  scourges  are ; 

The  sweets  we  dote  on  all  our  futures  mar : 

Even  a  love  that  springs   from  honest  heart 

May  to  its  object  prove   disastrous  dart. 

Better  for  yon  proud  negro  far  than  this, 

Had  he  been  headlong  hurled  down  deep  abyss. 

But  let  who  can  refuse  the  dear  embrace 
Of  maiden  moulded  with  such   fairy  grace: 

[  113  ] 


'  ^i 


«i 


Whose  golden  hair  in  silken  ringlets  streamed, 

Down  back  where  hints  of  countless  beauties  gleamed ; 

Whose  eyes  like  violets   from  seclusion   shone, 

And  filled  with  music  what  they  beamed  upon ; 

Whose  cheeks  were  tinted  like  the  daintiest  peach. 

And  could  a  lesson  by  their  blushes  teach 

Of  guileless  innocence  and  truth  and  love — 

Of  all  the  attributes  of  saints  above ; 

Whose  modest  lips  like  little  rosebuds  bloomed, 

Till  all  who  saw  them,  in  their  service  doomed. 

Still  hovered  near  in  hopes  the  fragrance  rare 

To  them  might  wander  on  the  vagrant  air; 

Whose  ripening  breasts,  so  soft  and  fresh  and  free, 

Like  tiny  billows  on  Elysian  sea, 

Now  flowed — now  ebbed — upon  the  zephyrous  tide 

Of  scented  sweetness  when  the  maiden  sighed. 

Too  few  would  falter,  once  such  love  to  know. 

To  face  a  future  of  the  direst  woe. 


Sometimes  'tis  title  storms  the  maiden's  heart; 

Oft  gilded  riches  guide  the  feathery  dart ; 

Perhaps  a  kindness  from  a  careless  hand, 

Ties  some  at  last  in  matrimonial  band; 

Strength,  too,  with  promise  of  protecting  care 

Has  won  affection  from  the  timid  fair; 

But  never  yet,  since  Cupid  first  began 

To  list  his  service  in  the  cause  of  man, 

Has  courage  failed  to  pierce  the  pathway  dark, 

Or  missed  the  center  of  the  shining  mark. 

All  maidens  love  a  hero  though  his  face 

May  savor  even  of  a  slave's  disgrace. 

But  love  of  slaves  can  only  hidden  be ; — 

Stern  edict  draws  the  line  unflinchingly; 

Such  passion,  though  as  pure  as  God  may  cause, 

Is  held  unworthy  by  vain  human  laws; 

Custom  cares  nothing  where  the  heart  m..y  guide- 

A  king  must  consort  with  a  royal  bride; 

[  114  ] 


Till  such  void  laws  degrade  the  human  race 
And  make  men  what  they're  not  to  outward  gaze. 

And  what  is  hidden,  must,  though  long  we  wait. 
Crop  up  to  meet  us  with  unlooked  for  fate. 
The  planter,  learning  of  his  daughter's  care 
For  slave  he  purchased  at  her  urgent  prayer, 
Late  tracks  the  lovers  to  their  trysting  place 
.\iid  finds  them  locked  in   fondest  love's  embrace. 
Oh  God !     What  horror  for  a  father's  sight ! 
Haste — haste  revenge !   for  such  an  awful  blight. 
Hang  the  black  traitor  to  the  nearest  tree; — 
There  let  him  answer  to  eternity. 
His  only  child  seduced  by  such  an  one 
Whose  instant  death  can  scarce  a  jot  atone; 
"Though  I  refused  this  morn  with  him  to  part 
"For  thrice  the  weight  in  gold  of  his  dark  heart, 
"More  deeply  would  I  scorn  to  take  it  now — 
"Here,  let  me  hoist  him  to  avenging  bough." 
A  dozen  eager  hands  afford  their  aid; 
Soon  high  in  air  the  dying  negro  swayed : 
And  there  they  left  h^m  a  rebuke  to  all — 
While  noiselessly  the  shades  of  even  fall. 


f  lis  ] 


-  f 


PART  II 


II 


THE  DEATH  OF  JIM'S  MOTHER. 

Twelve  weary  years  have  left  their  furrowed  trace 
Upon  the  features  of  a  once  fair  face; 
Twelve  years  of  mental  suffering  and  care 
Have  early  changed  to  grey  that  golden  hair; 
But  still  through  all  the  gr'ef  and  pain  and  tears, 
Again  we  see  the  girl  of  former  years, 
Whose  wealth  of  love  around  its  object  proud 
Proved  all  too  soon  that  object's  sombre  shroud. 
And  now  she  lies  her  moments  fleeting  fast. 
On  Death's  damp  pillow— nor  regrets  the  past: 
The  tide  of  life  is  ebbing  to  that  shore 
Where  sorrow  ceases  and  where  pain  is  o'er. 
Beside  her  bed  with  loving,  tearful  eye, 
In  silence  listening  to  each  lessening  sigh. 
With  woolly  curls  and  darkly  mantled  face, — 
Recalling  all  too  well  a  fond  er-brate— 
Kneels  Jim— young  Jim  her  dearly  purchased  boy. 
From  whom  no  stigma  could  her  heart  decoy- 
While  with  her  hand  close  tangled  in  his  hair. 
Her  flagging  breath  essays  this  dying  prayer: 


"Oh  Thou!  Most  High,  O    nipotent  and  Great! 
"To  whom  all  creatures  must  or  soon  or  late 
"With  deep  humility  and  penance  bow, 
"Turn  to  the  trembling  soul  that  seeks  Thee  now. 
'Thou  who  unaided  makes  the  sun  to  shine; 
"Whose  humblest  work  proclaims  a  hand  divine; 
"Hear  and  attend  a  helpless  Mother's  plea 
"As  on  her  bed  of  death  she  calls  to  Thee. 
"Thou,  who,  already,  ere  her  life  began, 
"Had  fixed  her  place  in  Thy  eternal  plan ; 
"Whose  watchful  eye  pursued  her  childhood  years; 
"Who  made  her  mortal  with  her  hopes  and  fears; 
"Who  placed  the  spark  of  love  within  her  breast; 


^1^ 


[  119] 


"Then  fanned  it  to  a  flame  of  fearful  zest— 
"Till  first  a  lover,  then  a  heart-broke  sire, 
"Become  forced  offerings  to  its  awful  fir-'- 
"And  now.  she  too,  before  Thee  soon  must  prove 
"Still  one  more  victim  to  that  same  dread  love. 
"But,  if  Thou  wilt,  let  this  last  life  atone 
"And  spare,  oh  Great  Creator!  spare  her  son." 

The  sufferer's  voice  grew  faint  and  fainter  still ; 
The  words  in  whispers  through  the  hushed  room  thrill 
The  boy  still  kneels  with  sorrow-stricken  air 
Beside  the  bed,  while  through  his  curly  hair 
With  deathless  love  still  strays  the  mother's  hand. 
As^  to  the  skies  again  her  prayers  ascend : 

"Oh  Heavenly  Father,  promised  Guide  of  all, 
''\\'liose  careful  -ve  sees  e'en  the  spa. row's  fall'; 
''Here  as  I  lie  e    >■  .ting  soon  to  meet 
"And   fall  adoring  at  Thy  Mercy  seat; 
j'My  heart's  last  drops  send  to  Thy  Judgment  Throne 
To   ask  Thy  pity   for  my  guiltless   son. 
"Thou  know'st  the  secret  of  his  hapless  birth ; 
"Thou  know'st  his  father  and  his  father's  worth  • 
'Thou  know'st  the  love  that  sprang  from  virtue'I  core, 
And  caused  the  hardships  that  have  pressed  so  sore; 
"And  well  Thou  know'st,  1   feel  within  my  breast 
"  Twas  not  Thy  Law  but  Man's  that  I  transgressed ; 
"But  if  I've  sinned  then  me  alone  destroy: 
"Wreak  not  T'-y  vengeance  on  my  sinless  boy." 


"Most  Gracious,   Loving  and   Forgiving  God! 

•'Keep  Thou   his   feet  upon   the  narrow   road; 

"His  way  is  destined  to  be  lone  and  steep; 

"The  gloomy  past  must  ever  on  him  creep! 

"That  burning  flood  that  through  each  vein  de.<;cenf!s, 

"Do  Thou  subdue  or  use  to  righteous  ends; 

"Through  all  the  devious  ways  that  he  must  walk— 

[  120  ] 


"When  dark  temptations  'romul  his  pathway  stalk— 

"Be  Thou  nearby  Thy  ready  aid  to  lend; 

"To  be  his  Comfort  and  his  Guide  and  I-riend. 

"Despite  the  efforts  of  the  lewd  to  lure 

"May  he  be  ever  true  and  wise  and  pure; 

"Teach  him  the  time  to  bkish,  the  time  tu  sigh, 

"And  when  to  act  and  wlien  to  nobly  die. 

"To  Thee  I  leave  him— hear  my  dying  prayer, 

"He  his  young  life  Thy  special  thought  and  care; 

"Oh  God:    Be  merciful.     If  'tis  decreed 

"Let  not— let  not"— but,  ere  the  thought  is   freed, 

The  spirit  of  the  thinker  takes  its  flight 

To  realms  of  darkness  and  of  voiceless  night. 


Bereft  of  Mother!     What  a  nameless  loss. 
Is  there  for  man  a  L.trder.  heavier  cross? 
Bereft  of  her  whom   whispering  angels  told 
His  earliest  movements  in  a  mortal  mould; 
And  who  thrice  happy  in  her  secret  sight, 
Prepared  to  love  him  ere  he  saw  the  light; 
Who   for  his  sake   endured  the  keenest  pain- 
E'en  unto  death  but  counted  all  as  gain; 
Th'.  torrure  was  her  measure  true 

Of  comnig  sacrifice  she  thought  his  due; 
Who  watched  his  baby  lips  upon  her  breast 
Drink  in  elixir  and  then  sink  to  rest; 
And  at  such  times  has  breathless  stopped  to  trace 
Some  new  found  beauty  on  his  infant   face; 
Who  gladly  hastened,  at  his   childish   call. 
To  praise  his  prowess  or  arrange  his  doll, 
To  wet  his  lips  in  midnight's  lonely  hour, 
Or  while  yet  day  to  shield  from  pelting  shower; 
Whose  leisure  moments  were  made  glad  by  dreams, 
Of  happy  futures  by  Arcadian  streams. 
Where  all  the  castles  that  she  built  in  air. 
Held  him  as  Master  with  his  ease  her  care. 


[  121  1 


ill 


To  lose  our  Mother  is  to  lose  that  friend 

Whom,  by  our  side,  the  gods  did  singly  send. 

It  is  a  blow,  to  which  all  other  blows, — 

Like  mount  of  ice  assailed  by  drifting  snows,— 

Are  vain ;  and  leaves  us  like  a  ship  at  sea 

With  rudder  gone  and  breakers  oti  her  lee. 

Our  Mother  is  the  only  star  we  boast; 

To  trust  to  others  must  be  at  our  cost. 

A  Father's  love  is  dear;  'tis  based  on  pride; 

But  when  most  needed  is  too  oft  denied; 

A  Wifely  love  oft  gentle  smiles  secure. 

And  while  we  smile  such  love  may  still  endure; 

But  when  the  tempest  and  the  storm  clouds  lower. 

When  passions  burn  us  and  our  virtues  cower. 

When  all  around  seems  ruin  and  disgrace; 

'Tis  then— Yes,  then— we  seek  a  Mother's  face; 

And  in  those  eyes,  where,  meek  or  bold,  we  peer ; 

How  well  we  knew  it — is  the  faithful  tear. 

Ah  Jim!  poor  Jim!    Your  present  grief  is  whiin. 

Your  way  is  darkened  as  you  little  dream. 


[122] 


PART  III 


;  pi 
I- 


i 

■ 

.  i 

THE  DEATH  OF  JIM. 

Time,  tireless  Time!  to  thee  the  ages  bow, 

Each  heaping  laurels  on  thy  hoary  brow. 

Grief,  Love  and  Pride  all  vanish  at  thy  nod ; 

Thy  creeping  power  can  even  F?.me  defraud. 

Caesars  may  prosper;  Alexanders  storm. 

Napoleons  trample  on  their  fellow  worm; 

But  Lo!   when  highest,  see  their  boasted  sway 

Fall  to  the  ground  and  falling  fade  away. 

Homer  steps  forth;  all  peoples  hear  his  tread; 

A  Virgil's  voice  re-echoes  o'er  the  dead; 

A  Shakespeare  comes  and  now  the  maddening  throng 

Do  homage  to  his  seeming  deathless  song; 

But  all  is  vain; — their  throbbing  words  grov/  weak— 

'Tis  doubtful  now  of  whom  the  nations  speak. 

The  maiden  sighs:  "Ah  yes,  I  will  be  true;" 

The  dreamer  vows  what  wondrous  things  he'll  do; 

The  widow  knows  her  heart  will  surely  break; 

And  all  are  fearful  for  the  orphan's  sake; 

But  fancied  fates  soon  yield,  wh"    vows  wax  strange. 

To  Time— inexorable  God  of  Change. 

H,     Hi     if     if     :M     * 


Cementing  War  has  crossed  dissentient  land, 
And  struck  the  fetters  from  the  shackled  hand. 
O'er  negro  huts  the  flags  of   freedom  wave; — 
Now  only  habit  can  the  hosts  enslave — 
And  Jim,  the  lad  we  left  'neath  sorrow's  ban. 
Now  strides  in  virile  pride  a  bearded  man. 
Mark  how  hard  toil  has  rounded  like  a  charm 
His  corded  calf,  his  muscled  thigh  and  arm; 
See  how  his  shoulders,  ..hiselled  like  a  god's. 
The  effect  of  labor  and  its  use  applauds ; 
The  forehead  high,  with  raven  curls  to  crown 
Glistening  in  shocks  and  soft  as  eider  down ; 

[  125  ] 


^•1 


V4% 


a 


:-4 


mi 


.4 


i'l 


r     r    ' 


i 


The  tender  honest  eyes  with  whites  so  clear; 
'Neath  shaggy  brows  that  scout  the  thought  of  fear: 
The  thickset  neck;  the  shapely  dimpled  chin; 
The  ruddy  lips;   the  dark-complexioned  skin; 
These  all  with  bubbling  life  transfused  and  warm 
Combine  to  make  proverbial  creole  form: 
We  trace  his  mother's  culture  in  his  face; 
And  in  his  rugged  frame  his  father's  race. 

Now  further  South  than  when  we  saw  him  last; 
In  endless  Summer  land  Jim's  lot  is  cast. 
The  fields  of  cotton  and  of  tasselled  corn, 
Near  which  he  spent  his  life's  unhappy  morn, 
Give  place  to  groves  of  orange  and  of  lime 
And  all  the  products  of  a  tropic  clime. 
The  SQi-called  Winter,  with  its  sunny  days, 
And  floral  trophies  where  the  tourist  strays. 
Has  drawn  him,  too,  among  a  motley  mass 
Who  serve  the  foibles  of  the  wealthier  class: 
And  he,  attendant  on  a  Croesus'  whim, 
Today  is  wandering  in  an  airy  dream. 
But  mark  that  meeting  on  the  winding  road 
That  leads  from  ocean  to  a  rich  abode; 
What  means  that  flush  upon  Jim's  olive  cheek; 
Those  bounding  steps  some  inward  story  speak; 
See !  now  one  comes  and  first  his  face  afllame 
Grows  pale  as  saffron  as  he  breathes  her  name;— 
No  servile  thought  has  urged  that  bending  knee— 
'Tis  native  grace  and  inborn  chivalry. 

And  who  is  she  that  noiselessly  draws  nigh. 
With  furtive  glances  from  her  long-lashed  eye? 
A  wood  nymph  surely?  or  a  dryad  fair? 
Did  Venus  ever  have  such  lovely  hair? 
Each  pencilled  brow  to  perfect  arch  enswerves — 
Artists  might  try  in  vain  to  make  such  curves. 

[  126] 


\     . 


That  marble  forehead  with  its  regal  turn; 
Those  velvet  cheeks  where  little  sunsets  burn; 
That  proud  uplifted  nose;  those  crimson  lips, 
With  life  blood  tingling  in  their  glowing  tips; 
Those  dainty  ears  half  hid  in  shadowy  locks; 
That  rounded  chin  that  boasted  virtue  mocks; 
That  portly  neck  which  all  are  fain  to  trace 
With  ravished  vision  to  its  swelling  base- 
All— all  assist  to  give  the  matchless  power 
Fair  woman  wields  in  man's  unguarded  hour. 
Women  are  weak  but  men  are  worse  at  whiles 
When  beauty  flaunts  them  and  with  meaning  smiles. 
May  Hall  is  one  whom  hosts  have  learned  to  fear— 
Her  graces  dazzled  till  their  lives  grew  drear. 

But  how  this  meeting?    Is  it  all  by  chance? 
Not  altogether  says  that  furtive  glance. 
A  week  has  passed  since  first— his  eye  bewitched— 
Jim  saw  the  surf  by  her  soft  form  enriched. 
"She's  from  the  North,"  the  gathering  voices  say, 
But  Jim  discordant  turned  his  gaze  away: 
What  right  had  he  to  look  at  limbs  so  fair! 
He— a  mulatto!— how  absurd  to  dare! 
The  law  has  ordered  he  must  wed  a  black: 
His  choice  is  higher,  but  the  law— alack! 
And  as  he  starts  to  drag  his  lingering  feet 
Far  from  the  spot  where  tempting  visions  greet, 
His  eye  meets  hers— when  lo!  his  pulses  thrill; 
She  looks  admiringly  nor  curbs  her  will. 
Surely  he  dreams?    Could  such  an  angel  form 
In  him  find  aught  her  fairy  hope  to  charm? 
Why  throbs  his  heart  as  it  ne'er  throbbed  before? 
What  current  joins  him  to  retreating  shore? 
He  knows  too  well.    Responsive  chords  ne'er  jest: 
A  kindred   feeling  warms  that   other  breast. 


[  127  ] 


i-  ■■ 


III 

ISil 


#f^ 


Now  into  mist  life's  cloud  begins  to  fade; 
Far  to  the  North  he  flits  with  Northern  maid; 
There  none  will  know  the  blood  that  browns  his  face 
Coursed,  since  the  flood,  through  veins  of  Afric  race; 
There  jeers  will  cease,  nor  of  his  birth  remind; 
There  he  wi'!  walk  a  man  among  his  kind. 
Over  a  farm  he'll  lord  it  like  a  king; 
Oh,  how  he'll  work  and  make  the  welkin  ring! 
With  her  as  wife  how  happy  home  will  bet- 
See  where  it  stands  near  spreading  Maple  tree; 
And  like  the  brook  close  by  will  glide  away 
Peaceful  his  days  beneath  love's  gentle  sway. 
She  shall  not  want;  her  will  shall  be  his  law; 
He  will  be  true  and  life  will  know  no  flaw. 
Oh  who  can  paint  the  smile  that  lights  her  face, 
As  in  his  arms  she's  locked  in  dear  embrace; 
Or  who  can  sing  the  rapture  of  their  bliss 
\s  on  her  brow  he  presses  chastest  kiss — 
While  o'er  a  cradle  "neath  that  Northern  sky 
He  hears  her  hum  a  baby's  lullaby. 


I: 


fi. 


Dreams  such  as  these  have  filled  the  flying  week ; 
And  urged  to  scenes  that  both  have  seemed  to  seek 
Hope  spreads  the  net  with  artful  winning  wile; 
Daily  May's  glance  has  lightened  weary  toil : 
See!  she  grows  bold,  while  none  are  passing  near, 
And  with  fond  words  delights  his  doubting  ear. 
Then  comes  a  note  to  which  sweet  fragrance  clings ; 
Is  it  her  breath  the  guilty  letter  brings? 
Ah  no!  a  pansy  plucked  from  shady  bower — 
That  seeming  modest  but  impulsive  flower- 
Hides  for  a  moment  from  his  eager  gaze 
(As  though  'twere  jealous  of  the  hidden  praise) 
These  ardent  words : 

"My  Heart's  Love  and  my  King: 
"A  thousand  kisses  let  this  missive  bring. 


[  128  ] 


"All  my  long  years  have  failed  to  leave  with  me 
"Bliss  like  the  bliss  that  is  inspired  by  thee. 
"Oh  how  I  hate  the  fate  that  makes  me  white, 
"To  be  your  queen  I'd  grow  as  dark  as  night. 
"Come  darling,  come  at  four  o'clock  today;— 
"Come  to  thj  ocean  path — 

Your  loving  May." 


And  now  he  comes.     Like  one  beset  with  dreams 
Who  tries  to  wake  but  still  the  vision  beams. 
Slowly  she  leads  him  to  a  sheltered  glen 
Out  of  the  haunts  pursued  by  busy  men; 
And  where  a  r Libber  stretches  roots  around 
To  raise  in  knolls  the  moss  encovered  ground. 
Close  to  its  base  upon  luxurious  seat, 
Now  they  are  resting  from  the  sultry  heat. 
It  is  retreat  for  privacy  and  ease, 
Disturbed  by  naught  but  palm-seducing  breeze; 
Save  that  at  times  is  heard  the  idle  roar 
Of  old  Atlantic  as  he  chafes  his  shore. 
The  zephyrous  air  is  heavy  with  perfume 
Of  luscious  pines  and  guava  groves  in  bloom ; 
While  far  aloft,  beyond  where  red  bird  peers. 
Heaven's  azure  vault  its  tropic  grandeur  rears. 
Jim's  heart  beats  fast  as  on  earth's  lap  he  lies; 
His  thoughts  are  pure  as  jonder  arching  skies ; 
Soon  he  will  speak  the  hope  that  fills  his  breast- 
Soon  will  he  kneel  to  be  her  slave  confessed. 


He  has  been  chaste; — no  easy  spoken  boast — 
Millions  have  foundered  when  by  passion  tost. 
And  with  the  memory  of  their  losing  strife. 
Now  doubt  if  any  have  kept  clean  their  life. 
Through  all  the  years  when  youthful   follies  rage 
Wreaking  vain  vengeance  against  wisdom's  cage 
Jim  has  been  thinking  of  the  fervid  prayer, 

[  129  } 


!    If 


! 


His  mother  whispered  in  her  dying  care, 
To  that  Great  Being  in  the  dark  obscure 
To  keep  him  ever  "true  and  wise  and  pure." 
He  too,  had  early  formed  a  high  ideal ; 
Few  women  measured  to  its  worth  so  real; 
And  what  temptation  to  the  mass  might  seem, 
To  him  was  nothing  but  repulsive  dream. 
And  when  as  oft  he  felt  the  currents  fly 
Urged  by  the  voice  "Increase  and  multiply" 
Till  each  blue  vein  was  bursting  with  the  flow, 
And  burning  forehead  told  of  passion's  glow, 
Kind  fate  had  kept  him  out  of  tempter's  power 
Till  cooled  by  reason's  slow  returning  shower. 

But  now  his  chasteness  proved  the  giddy  steep 
From  which  he  stumbled  to  forbidding  deep. 
Pure  in  his  own,  he  deemed  May's  love  more  pure; 
Her  very  beauty  made  him  doubly  sure. 
"Beauty,"  he  thought — but  oh,  how  vain  his  wit  :— 
How  well  such  wisdom  did  his  chasteness  fit. — 
"Beauty  is  but  the  outward  form  and  sign 
Of  inward  virtue  and  of  soul  divine." 
Soon,  soon  he  learned,  but  all  too  late  to  save, 
The  thought  a  traitor  and  her  love  his  grave. 
For  May  was  false — a  selfish  debauchee — 
Whose  heart  was  black  as  mortal  heart  could  be. 
To  wed  a  half-breed  never  crossed  her  mind; 
Catch  worldly  woman  making  miss  so  blind; 
In  social  circles  'twould  have  meant  her  doom — 
A  fate  that  palled  her  like  an  open  tomb. 
She  wooed  the  creole  for  his  handsome  form; 
Her  lustful  passion  he  had  chanced  to  warm; 
And  now  but  led  him  into  soft  amour 
To  gild  the  memory  of  her  Southern  tour. 


!     J 


[  130] 


But  day  is  waning.     To  the  Western  sky 
The  beams  are  pointing  and  blest  moments  fly. 
Now  at  his  feet  with  modest  art  she  kneels, 
Oh  was  there  ever  maid  so  pure  he  feels ! 
Close— closer  still  she  meets  his  fervent  kiss 
Heart  clings  to  heart  in  longing,  lingering  bliss. 
And  as  he  sits  upon  the  mossy  knoll. 
Listening  to  sighs  that  sear  his  earnest  soul, 

See  how  she  parts  his  knees  to  get  more  near 

Now  he  will  speak  the  hope  he  holds  so  dear. 

But  ere  the  words  find  time  to  pass  his  lips 
They  are  forgotten  in  a  strange  eclipse; 
She  lifts  to  his  her  passion-laden  eyes; 
When  boiling  torrents  through  his  body  flies; 
Wine  is  but  water  to  the  maddening  flood 
Poured  from  those  eyes  to  mingle  with  his  blood ; 
A  practiced  wile— it  proves  too  well  its  power- 
Jim  was  but  human  in  that  honeyed  hour. 
Fears  of  the  future  are  but  weak  indeed— 
If  passion  drives  us— to  arrest  our  speed. 
Thoughts  of  his  mother— of  his  father's  fate— 
Of  all  the  horrors  that  in  hell  might  wait- 
Flit  o'er  his  mind  but  scarcely  weigh  a  straw; 
At  last  Jim  hearkens  to  God's  strongest  law. 


But  through  the  forest  from  Atlantic  foam 
Hark  to  some  bathers  as  they  hurry  home; 
Too  late  to  hide!  discovery  is  sure! 
May's  ready  wit  bethinks  a  plan  secure. 
Self  preservation  from  fell  scandal's  dart 
Endows  trapped  woman  with  consummate  art. 
Struggling,  she  rises  with  a  piercing  cry, 
And  rushes  headlong  to  the  passers-by; 
Then,  pointing  wildly  at  dumbfounded  Jim, 

[131] 


She  begs  protection  from  his  bestial  vim ; 
And  seals  concoction  of  her  lying  tongue 
By  swoon  most  tragic  mid  astonished  throng. 

The  Southern  honor  is  in  arms  at  once; 
Upon  poor  Jim  the  crowd  indignant  pounce. 
Close  to  his  heart  a  tell-tale  letter  lies — 
Now  let  him  use  it  and  make  real  her  sighs. 
But  no,  more  noble  in  his  honest  rage, 
See  where  in  fragments  falls  the  dainty  page. 
He  makes  no  effort  in  his  own  defense ; 
He  feels  half  guilty  with  returning  sense; 
And  like  a  dog  they  drag  him  to  a  cell. 
In  whose  dark  confines  dins  a  boding  knell. 


t  ■ 


"I  i 


han(;hd  without  a  trial. 

"And  is  she  dead  ?"  hoarse  voices  whisper  low. 
"Not  yet  but  nearly ;"  and  the  speakers  go. 
Through  all  the  town  the  gaining  story  flies; 
For  mile  on  mile  the  curdling  message  hies; 
"A  rape!  a  rape!"     Another  negro  fiend! 
"Our  wives  may  suffer  if  this  brute  is  screened!" 
And  groups  of  men  new  groups  mysterious  meet — 
A  mob  assembles  in  the  dusky  street. 
On  every  face  the  same  set  caste  is  seen ; 
"Curse  on  the  scoundrel,"  says  each  stolid  mien. 
But  not  a  sound  from  any  lip  is  heard; 
No  tongue  yet  dares  to  speak  the  fatal  word; 
Till  like  the  bursting  of  an  angry  cloud 
A  voice  breaks  forth  from  out  the  silent  crowd : 
"Lynch — lynch  the  dastard.     Shall  we  idly  see 
"Fair  stranger  robbed  of  her  virginity? 
"Come  let  us  hasten  to  yon  loop-holed  jail! 
"Come  or  the  monster  may  go  safe  and  hale; 
"While  on  her  bed  his  suffering  victim  moans; 
"How  can  we  loiter  near  such  piteous  groans?" 

[  132  ] 


#^ 


.     i 


'No  eye  but  God's  surveys  the  darkling  heath: 
Jim's  stiffening  body  is  alone  with  Death." 


Pajge  133. 


m 


Deep  sink  such  words  in  every  Southern  breast ; 
A  sheriff's  protest  is  but  mocking  jest; 
Now  they  have  taken  with  peculiar  ease 
From  would-be  lyncher  the  great  prison  keys; 
And  grown  impatient  at  the  slight  delay 
The  culprit  has  not  even  time  to  pray ; 
A  score  of  feverish  hands  choke  lingering  hope 
By  twisting  'round  his  limbs  the  ready  rope; 
Quick  through  the  town  his  tortured  form  is  whirled; 
Curse  after  curse  upon  his  head  is  hurled; 
"Here  is  the  tree!"    From  high  unbending  bough 
Soon  he  is  dangling— all  unconscious  now- 
Then,  vengeance  wreaked,  but  fear  in  every  eye, 
Fast  from  the  scene  the  guilty  lynchers  fly. 


*  «  »  »  # 


The  moon  steals  slowly  up  the  blue  serene; 
Far  reach  its  beams  across  the  silent  green. 
Behind  the  gnarled  oaks  grim  shadows  creep; 
The  insect  world  is  hushed  ii  weird,  still  sleep; 
No  eye  but  God's  surveys  the  darkling  heath: 
Jim's  stiffening  body  is  alone  with  Lto  i.. 


if?  I 


ith: 


[  133  ] 


1: 


^* 


IGNORANCK  AS  TYRANT 

OR 

THE  PASSING  OF  UNCLK  SAM 


BEetJN  IS  Yaslovveh,  B.  C. 
IN  1907 


jl 


li 


n 

» 

H 

M. 

I! 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

THE  following  story,  drenched  as  it  is  with  tragic 
incident,  would  seem  to  be  but  the  disordered 
imaginings  of  a  dyspeptic,  if  it  were  impossible  to 
otherwise  account  for  it;  but,  like  a  former  story 
herein,  no  important  detail  has  been  introduced  that 
cannot  be  paralleled  with  newspaper  clippings. 

It  is  a  regrettable  but  none-the-less  obvious  fact  that 
"too  much"  is  as  possible  as  "too  little"  liberty,  and  a 
deplorable  feature  of  the  excess  consists  in  the  absolute 
lack  of  tolerance  displayed  by  the  class  that  in  latter 
days  are  beginning  V  "feel  their  oats."  The  untrained 
freedom  of  the  working  classes  in  any  land  is  quite  as 
disastrous  to  good  government  as  the  unlimited  power 
of  wealth,  and  must  have  about  the  same  effect  on 
civilization  as  that  produced  in  a  china  shop  by  turning 
the  proverbial  bull  loose  among  the  delicate  pottery. 

The  author  is  indebted  for  his  very  existence  to  a 
man  who  for  a  time  was  a  "union"  m.ember  and  a  so- 
called  "knight  of  labor"  and  it  is  not  to  hold  him  or 
an  organization  of  laborers  up  to  contempt  or  contumely 
that  this  story  is  gathered  together.  God  knows  there 
is  much  to  be  said  on  both  sides  of  the  labor  versus 
capital  question.  It  is  the  departure  from  legitimate 
purposes,  the  assumption  of  a  power  that  history  and 
universal  experience  has  proven  must  end,  like  the 
rebellions  of  Jack  Cade  and  Wat  Tyler,  in  confusion 
and  anarchy,  that  has  moved  the  writer  to  accentuate 
the  results  of  giving  any  class  (even  the  ci-devant  down- 
trodden)  an  unlimited  opportunity  to  rule. 


4i 


''il 


Nil 


m 

Hi 


THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF  MAN. 

An  Adept  in  the  happy  realm  of  universal  love, 
Looked  down  on  broad  America,  its  greatest  need  to 

prove : 
He  heard  the  voices  from  the  farm,  the  market  and  the 

mill; 
He  hearkened  to  the  echoir^i  from  prairie-land  and  hill : 
He  saw  things  as  they  really  are  and  not  as  what  they 

seem; 
The  groanings  of  the  sore  oppressed  came  to  him  as 

a  dream; 
The  pauper  told  him  all  his  woe,  the  workman  all  his 

care, 
And  to  his  ear  omniscient  came  sigh  of  millionaire. 
The  righteous  breathed  their  far-off  hope,  the  sinners 

pled  their  shame 
And  every  home  throughout  the  land  made  clear  to 

him  some  claim. 
And  yet  Respite  the  selfish  din  of  clashing  class  and  clan 
He  knew  that  God  had  planted  deep  the  seeds  of  good 

in  man. 
W'ith  this  in  mind  he  listened  long  to  catch  the  com- 
mon wail 
That  underlay  the  growing  strife,  and   lo!   he  heard 

this  tale: 


"Forgotten  is  the  Golden  Rule,— the  one-time  Chris- 
tian's boast, 

"We  think  of  naught  but  selfish  ends — nor  count  the 
fearful  cost; 

"Xo  land  can  prosper  all  admit  if  what  we  say  and  do 

"Is  for  the  individual  and  not  the  nation  too. 

"And  yet  \vc  persevere  in  plans  to  cut  our  rivals' 
throats ; 

"And  o'er  a  neighbor's  bleeding  corpse  a  neighbor 
madly  gloats: 

[  139  ] 


Suspicion  of  our  next  of  kin  upon  us  daily  grows  • 

"^'tdf  fall""*  '""^  ''"•  '"  ^^^^"^"^  °^  I'y  the  way- 
;;The  cripple  or  the  invalid  is  crowded  to  the  wall  ■ 

"And^o'er  the  twentieth  century  the  middle  ages  lower." 
''''rve"::'iX°^^''"  '''  ^''''  -^''  "^'^^  -'e  God 

"^codj^""^  ''  '"^'  '"°"^''  *°'"  *"  '^  y°"'"  «d°Pt  its 
•'And^^et  the  strong  protect  the  weak  and  tote  his  weary 

"To  others  do  as  you  would  wish  that  they  should  do  to 
you — 

'•Is  all  your  nation  has  to  heed  to  make  it  grand  and 
true : 

"Twould  teach  you  tolerance  of  race  and   of  belief 
and  caste, 

"And  capital  and  labor  strife  would  soon  be  of  the  piist 
Religious  bigotry  must  cease  and  in  its  place  come  love,' 
That  would  from  every  pulpit  preach  and  guide  you 
up  above. 

"No   Unions  then   nor  soulless   Trusts  you'd   need  to 
gam  your  end; 

"The   Golden   Rule   in   every   heart   would   everv   right 
delend.  ' 


[  140  ] 


"Then  from  the  great  United  States  the  World  might 

get  its  plan 
"Of  federation  militant— THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF 

MAN." 


Ml  J 


HI 


It!     V. 


PART  I 


II 

I;  I 

ff 


Captain  Sam  Roberts  was  a  Southern  planter, 

Who,  while  he  was  more  familiarly  known 

As  Uncle  Sam  among  his  intimates. 

Had  yet  well  earned  his  title  of  Captain. 

For  four  long  years  during  the  civil  war 

He  had  fought  for  the  Confederacy. 

Many  times  had  he  been  wounded,  and  scars — 

Honorable  as  a  soldier  might  wear — 

Were  his  pride,  when,  recounting  to  his  friends 

The  battles  in  which  he  fought,  he  would  show 

Them  and  say:  This  I  gained  at  Gettysburg: 

And  that  at  Lookout  Mountain.    As  my  due 

Shiloh  p'raps  or  Fredericksburg  left  me  these. 

.•\nd  then  he  would  tell  how  they  were  obtained, 

What  hardships  they  entailed,  and  of  the  time 

He  had  spent  in  the  enemy's  prison. 

Waiting  to  be  exchanged. 

He  would  detail 
With  graphic  minuteness  all  the  horrors 
Of  imprisonment  and  would  warn  hearers 
Never  to  be  taken  captive  while  strength 
Was  left  them  to  avoid  it.    He  but  once 
Had  suffered  himself  to  be  surrounded 
And  that  was  while  lying  insensible. 
Often  have  his  friends  heard  him  tell  of  hunger. 
Fatigue  and  bloodshed :   of  gallant   sorties 
In  the  dead  of  night  to  the  Yankee  camp 
To  reconnoiter  the  ground  or  forage. 


But  of  all  the  storieii  he  related 

Of  incident,  war  freak  or  experience, 

There  were  none  appealed  to  them  more,  or  spoke 

Better  of  the  Captain's  high  character 

Than  the  one  he  oft  told  of  a  Yankee, 

Who,  in  a  sudden  retreat  to  a  place 

Of  better  advantage,  had  been  entrapped 


[  145] 


t 


By  him  and  caught  i.i  the  act  of  hiding. 
He  had  raised  his  rifle  to  shoot,  when  lo! 
The  Masonic  sign  of  distress  was  made 
By  his  desperate  and  crestfallen  foe; 
And  the  victor,  himself  an  Arch  Mason, 
Remembering  his  solemn  vow,  lowered  the  gun 
In  mercy  and  let  the  Yankee  escape. 
The  act  was  not  forgotten  and  now. 
As  a  proof  of  the  Captain's  best  story, 
A  handsomely  jeweled  watch  with  the  words: 
"Remember  the  widow's  son"  and  the  name 
Of  a   Northern  colonel   plainly   engraved 
On  its  case,  was  always  sure  to  be  found 
In  b  part  of  the  recipient's  apparel. 


But  the  Civil  War  was  over.     Its  feuds- 
Its  bitterness— were  a  thing  of  the  past. 
Instead  of  Captain  Sam  he  was  oftener 
Called  "Uncle  Sam"  now.    Partly  for  his  looks 
And  partly  because  of  his  attitude 
On  every  occasion  of  trouble. 
For  in  all  the  land  there  was  not  a  more 
Patriotic  citizen.     The  new  South, 
With  first  its  long  siege  of  dire  poverty. 
And  then  the  reacting  prosperity, 
Found  in  Uncle  Sam  a  man  of  the  type 
Of  Grady,  willing  to  forget  h;s  wounds 
That  the  Nation  be  again  united. 

Georgia  had  been  his  home.    A  plantation 

Worked  by  many  slaves  had  descended 

To  him  through  several  generations. 

The  Roberts  family  had  long  been  of  mark 

And  he  inherited  its  nobility. 

As  with  all  the  best  Southern  families 

The  slaves  were  well  treated.     During  the  war, 

[  146  ] 


\o  unusual  circumstance  to  be  sure, — 

More  than  one  of  these  negro  domestics 

Kemained  with  his  wife  and  child  protecting 

lliem  even  at  the  expense  of  tht-ir  lives, 

While  the  Master  was  away  at  the  front  ;— 

Preferring  comfort  in  their  owner's  home. 

To  the  cruel  privations  of  freedom. 

But,  alas!  towards  the  end  of  the  war 

The  Roberts  plantation,  situated 

In  the  way  of  Sherman's  great  march,  was  wrecked 

With  many  others,  tho'  his  wife  and  child 

Escaped,  thanks  to  the  faithful  assistance 

Of  Jackson,  a  young  male  slave,  who  faced  death 

To  bring  his  loved  mistress  and  little  one 

To  a  place  of  safety. 


When  Captain  Sam 
Returned,  after  the  peace  of  Appomatox, 
Despair  was  the  universal  watchword. 
His  home  was  in  ruins.    He  had  nothing 
That  the  poorest  envied.    But  his  wife  lived 
.\nd  he  started  in  with  a  will  to  make 
Another  home  for  her  and  his  offspring. 
Long  years  it  took — years  of  the  hardest  toil- 
But  with  horny  hands  and  wrinkled  visage 
He  successfully  retrieved  his  fortune. 
Now  grayheaded  and  thin,  but  full  of  life. 
He  was  perhaps  the  most  notable  man 
In  all  the  countrywide.     A  foremost  ♦ype 
Of  American,   hopeful,   honest,    brave — 
He  was  a  leader  at  all  times,  but  kind. 
Obliging,  patriotic.     That  was  why 
He  was  known  as  "Uncle  Sam"  and  esteemed 
ijy  all  who  knew  him.     Fearless  to  the  last. 
But  always  the  first  to  forgive,  he  soon 
Had  determined  America  was  large, 
And  that  Washington  was  father  of  all; 

[  147  ] 


Therefore  there  was  no  North  not  also  South. 
Nor  yet  was  there  a  South  from  which  the  North 
Was  harred.     But,  if  he  soon   forgave  the  hand 
That  did  him  an  injury,  all  he  had 
Was  yours  if  you  ever  had  been  his  friend. 


His  wife  was  worthy  of  such  a  husband 
And  was  his  loving  helpmeet.     She  was  keen 
To  help  him  in  all  his  projects.    And  oft 
Rallied  him  when  the  skies  were  gloomiest 
By  her  unfailing  cheerful  good  nature. 
The  poor  never  left  her  door  without  alms, 
And  their  welfare  was  her  constant  study. 

Their  only  son,  who,  as  a  little  child 
Had  been  inured  to  the  hardships  of  war. 
And  later  to  the  cold  lap  of  poverty. 
Was  early  apprenticed  to  a  tradesman, 
That  he  might,  upon  entering  college. 
Be  a  practical,  painstaking  student. 
The  money  that  he  earned  as  apprentice 
Was  the  means  with  which  he  was  enabled 
To  pursue  his  University  course. 
This,  as  Uncle  Sam  argued,  was  a  way 
In  which  to  prove  to  his  son  that  labor 
Was  an  honorable  calling,  and  that 
Hard  work  is  the  first  round  in  the  ladder 
To  success  and  to  higher  things.     The  boy 
By   earning   his    fees   appreciated 
To  that  premeasured  extent  the  val.'e 
Of  his  subsequent  training.     And  in  truth 
The    lather's   argument   was   realized. 
For  his  son,  on  obtaining  a  degree, 
Devoted  his  life  to  inventing  tools 
For  the  saving  of  time  of  mechanics. 


[  148  ] 


It  was  just  after  his  son  had  launched  out, 
That  age  began  to  tell  on  the  loved  wife 
Of  Uncle  Sam,  and  it  devolved  on  him 
To  prolong  her  years  and  his  happiness. 
Leaving  his  son  on  the  farm  to  pursue 
His  laudable  life  work,  the  proud  father 
And  mother,  went  southward,  where,  they  had  licard 
The  weather  was  milder  and  more  healthful. 
Soon  imbued  with  the  Florida  climate, 
Where  his  wife  seemed  to  improve,  Uni  le  Sam 
Proposed,  in  a  growing  resort,  to  buii  i 
Them  a  winter  home.    And  why  should  he  uot' 
Who,  more  than  the  worker,  is  entitled 
In  his  later  years  to  recreation 
And  rest?     So  might  an  angel  argue,  bui 
Fate  had  ordered  it  otherwise.    At  first 
His  plans  went  well.     He  was  lauded  and  praised 
By  all  because  of  the  cash  he  proposed 
To  spend  in  their  midst.    The  papers  were  filled 
With  complimentary  notes  about  him. 
And  everybody  vied  with  each  other 
To  sell  him  material  or  labor. 


Genial  as  at  home  the  old  gentleman 

Entered  into  community  affairs ; 

Assisting,  wherever  he  could  do  so, 

With  both  presence  and  money  and  counsel. 

Voluble  to  a  fault,  and  proud  of  him. 

It  was  not  long  before  they  had  both  told 

Of  their  brilliant  son  in  Georgia,  whose  time 

Was  now  being  spent  in  the  perfecting 

Of  a  combination  brace  with  eight  bits 

(A  patent  for  which  had  just  been  obtained) 

To  be  used  by  workmen  in  general. 

But  by  carpenters  in  particular. 


1^1 


[  149  ] 


Specifications  for  the  new  home  settled, 
Work  was  begun  on  construction.     It  was 
Just  at  this  time  while  selecting  labor 
To  proceed,  that  Jackson  appeared-the  slave 
To  whom  Uncle  Sam  owed  his  wife  and  child, 
And  who,  in  recognition  of  his  worth. 
He  had  long  since  sent  to  an  institution 
Where  trades  were  taught  to  negroes.    At  this  place 
Jackson  had  learned  to  do  carpenter  work. 
Now  he  came  in  trouble.     His  woolly  head 
Frosted  with  years,  and  his  shaking  limbs 
Gamed  him  instant  attention.     He  was  black, 
He  said,  and  for  some  reason  or  other. 
Could  not  get  work.    Employers  turned  him  off 
Because  of  the  labor  unions.    They  said 
He  had  no  card  and  they  dared  not  employ 
A  "scab."    He  had  belonged  to  the  Union 
At  one  time  but  by  some  secret  edict 
The  local  where  his  name  had  been  'r rolled 
Lost  its  charter.     This  was  only  a  ;  ; ;. 
On  the  part  of  the  Unionists,  and  when 
He  applied  to  other  locals  he  found 
That  they  all  drew  the  line  on  his  color. 
And  said  negroes  were  ineligible. 

Could  not  he  get  a  job  on  the  building 
Being  put  up  by  his  "old  Massa"  Sam? 
"Certainly,"  said  Uncle  Sam,  and  his  wife 
Smiled  her  pleasure  and  consent.    And  Jackson 
Was  bidden  to  appear  at  work  next  day— 
For,  argued  Uncle  Sam,  since  old  Jackson 
Had  once  risked  his  life  in  his  behalf,  why  then 
Should  he  hesitate  to  give  him  a  lift 
Even  though  by  so  doing  he  incurred 
The  envious  taunts  of  race  prejudice. 


f  150  ] 


Jackson  had  worked  at  his  side  hoeing  corn 

And  cotton  in  Georgia  nor  had  presumed 

For  that  to  believe  himself  socially 

Equal.    There  was  no  difference  in  fact 

In  the  eyes  of  Omnipotent  Heaven 

But  the  difference  in  education, 

And  the  self  control,  science  and  morals 

That  were  nurtured  by  civilization. 

If  when  working  together  there  was  naught 

But  a  difference  of  racial  color 

To  distinguish  two  men  from  each  other, 

Then  it  was  surely  ridiculous  boast 

That  could  crow  over  characteristic 

That  skill,  aim,  or  training  could  not  affect 

And  which  only  the  Most  High  could  alter. 


On  the  morrow  according  to  promise 
Jackson  was  put  at  work  under  the  white 
Foreman  and  r.t  once  proved  ability 
To  do  whate'er  was  assigned  him.     The  day 
Was  not  half  gone,  however,  when  behold ! 
A  stranger  appeared  and  conferred  closely 
With  the  various  white  men  on  the  job. 
And  at  noon  they  went  on  strike  declaring 
Through  the  unknown  stranger  as  a  mouth-piece 
That  this  was  a  white  man's  country  and  they 
Would  not  wok  or  let  others  work  until 
Jackson  was  discharged.     Uncle  Sam  was  game. 
He  said  perhaps  it  was  a  white  man's  country 
But  it  was  a  freeman's  country  a.=  well. 
And  while  he  could  not  nor  would  not  compel 
Them  to  work,  it  was  still  his  right  to  hire 
Whoever  was  willing  to  come.     And  so 
He  bade  the  stranger  good-day  and  left  him 
Muttering  something  about  his  being 
"The  Walking  Delegate,"  that  represented 


f  151  1 


If' 


The  Union,  and  that  unless  he  gave  in 
He'd  be  sorry  sooner  or  later. 

This  was  on  Monday.    Jackson  worked  alone 
That  afternoon  and  on  Tuesday,  no  men 
Appearing  to  proceed  with  the  building, 
Uncle  Sam  determined  to  do  the  rest 
With  negro  help,  and  required  business  men 
With  whom  he  had  bargained  for  material 
To  deli-er  supplies.     To  his  chagrin 
He  was  .n  formed  with  apologetic  words. 
That  the  Union  had  threatened  to  boycott 
U  any  material  was  sold  to  him; 
And  rather  than  go  on  the  "unfair  list" 
They  preferred  to  lose  his  trade.    Undismayed 
Though  mconvenienced  Uncle  Sam  made  shift 
To  keep  Jackson  engaged  until  he  returned. 
And  left  to  obtain  supplies  from  the  North. 

While  he  was  gone  a  posse  at  nighttime 
Surrounded  the  work  that  had  been  finished 
And  left  it  a  pile  of  ruins     Jackson 
Appeared  and  protested,  but  a  bullet 
Into  the  old  man's  side,  gave  him  just  time 
To  knock  at  his  Master's  home  and  inform 
His  mistress  of  the  destruction,  before 
He  fell  dead  at  her  feet.     Shrieking,  she  swooned 
And  when  Uncle  Sam  arrived  he  found  her 
Suffering  from  brain   fever,  her  mind  deranged 
And  at  the  point  of  death.    Weeks  she  lav  thus 
Till  at  last   Providence  called   '  er  away" 
A  coroner's  jury,  packed  with   "union"  men. 
Had  a  pretended  inquest  on  the  corpse 
Of  Jackson.     He  was  only  a  nigger- 
It  served  him  "damn  well  right."  and  a  verdict 
Of  "accidental  death"  at  last  alarmed 

[  152  ] 


Uncle  Sam  and  aroused  him  to  the  state 
Of  government. 

Still  he  could  scarce  believe 
That  outside  of  Florida  it  was  thus. 
Surely  not  in  Georgia.    In  Florida 
The  people  were  all  newcomers  gathered 
From  many  other  states.     He  concluded 
That  they   were  but   rolling  stones.     The   state's   fair 

name 
Was  of  little  moment  to  them.     No  doubt 
When  they  had  made  their  "pile"  and  returned 
To  the  state  they  called  home,  it  would  change  them. 
In  Florida  they  were  making  money 
And  had  no  time  to  waste  on  politics ; 
While  they  were  sleeping,  perhaps,  or  too  keen 
On  obtaining  trade,  the  lowest  natures 
Were  usurping  the  governing  power. 
This  he  forgivingly  allowed  the  more 
When  he  learned  that  the  state's  executive 
Owed  his  office  to  the  fact  that  he  once, 
i'or  the  sake  of  gain,  had  plunged  the  whole  land 
Into  the  horrors  of  war  by  breaking 
Its  solemn  contracts  and  filibustering  Spain. 


Abandoning  all  thoughts  of  building  there, 
Uncle   Sam   returned  to  his  plantation. 
There  to  assist  his  son  in  the  great  work 
That  was  now  engaging  his  •  nention. 
The  combination  brace  and  bit  device 
Being  complete  it  was  necessary 
To  obtain  cash  to  p.ssemble  the  parts 
And  put  it  on  the  market.     To  do  this 
Uncle  Sam  mortgaged  his  farm.     Every  cent 
It  would  stand  was  borrowed  to  accomplish 
The  longed-for  end.    At  last  it  was  ready 

[  153  ] 


i; 


m 


For  sale.    A  tool  most  economical 
In  addition  to  its  great  uniqueness, 
Was  the  result  of  his  son's  long  effort. 

But  here  again  came  trouble.     Florida 
Was  not  alone  in  being  under  the  ban. 
The  Union  had  followed  him  up.    The  tool 
Was  put  on  the  "unfair  list"  and  no  where 
Could  It  be  sold  because  of  the  boycott. 
Even  the  wholesale  dealers  refused  it 
As  tho'  it  were  poison.    What  could  he  do? 
His'  son  unable  to  avoid  the  loss 
That  must  soon  overtake  his  old  father, 
And  humiliated  beyond  expreision 
Because  he  seemed  the  source  of  failure. 
Took  his  own  life  in  paroxysm  of  grief. 
And  left  Uncle  Sam  to  face  out  alone 
The  disaster  and  shame  of  foreclosure. 


At  last  the  climax  arrived.    A  pauper, 

He  left  the  home  he  worked  so  hard  to  gain : 

Penniless,  homeless,  grim;  bereft  of  wife. 

Son,  faithful  servant  and  even  of  friends — 

For  the  same  dread  fear  the  merchants  had  shown 

Was  everywhere  discernible.     No  one  dared, 

On  the  surface  at  all  events,  to  say 

What  was  warranted  by  each  circumstance. 

Uncle  Sam  wandered  forth,  and  in  wandering — 

Tho'  many  times  bereaved  yet  worse  than  all — 

Bereft  of  his  pride  of  country  he  roamed, 

An  outcast.    For  what  could  the  old  man  do 

That  would  be  worth  his  board? 

Broken  in  health 
And  chilled  by  the  cowardly  fear  abroad 

f  1=14  1 


II  PWw  .mmm^m^t^Tf 


Of  the  monster  with  which  he  had  battled, 

Many  times  the  old  soldier  reflected. 

On  the  fancied  peace  of  his  native  land: — 

"Peace,  aye,  peace  indeed,"  he  soliloquized; 

"War  to  the  knife  is  on,  twixt  capital 

"And  labor,  and  I  who  have  always  been 

"A  worker  and  a  friend  to  the  worker, 

"Am  singled  out  as  a  victim."    Aloud 

He  would  call  to  his  deafened  countrymen 

To  uphold  him  in  his  battle.    They  knew 

That  he  had  not  shirked  his  country's  call, 

And  they  knew  he  ha4  fought  to  a  tinish 

For  what  they  had  all  thought  right.    "The  foe 

"At  that  time  was  visible  and  it  was 

"A  principle  for  which  both  fought.     But  now 

"The  arch  enemy  is  invisible, 

"And  nothing  but  clear  greed  is  its  object. 

"Its  very  aim  impoverishes  itself, 

"And  success  can  only  mean  anarchy. 


"Is  it  right  that  ignorant  men,  imbued 
"With  no  higher  aim  than  a  raise  of  pay, 
"Should  be  given  the  reins  of  government? 
"What  but  riot,  misrule  and  disaster 
"Can  follow  such  short-sighted  policy? 
"Never  in  the  history  of  any  land 
"Was  there  so  grave  or  terrible  a  curse 
"To  be  overcome  as  that  which  confronts 
"The  United  States  today:  which  first 
"Murdered  my  faithful  servant ;  drove  my 
"In.sane ;  made  a  suicide  of  my  son ; 
"Robbed  me  of  my  property,  and  pursues 
"Me  even  now  because  I  dare  protest 
"Against  a  tyranny  of  ignorance 


wife 


\  155  ] 


SIS. 


-i\^-i4fia*ft- 


,-;v.3''jSSff. ,;;':, 


ukaSht 


Uta 


"And  selfishness.    If  I  could  only  see 
"The  barbarian  hordes  I  am  fighting 
"I  would  single  handed  avenge  the  lives 
"Of  the  too  many  innocent  victims 
"That  have  already  fallen  like  my  own. 
"But  ignorance  is  cowardly  and  seeks 
"Behind  strikes,  boycott  and  dynamite  bombs 
"To  paralyze  the  nation  with  fear. 
"Mid-night  assassins  never  accomplish 
"Reform  and  whoever  adopts  such  arms 
"Have  no  end  but  plunder  in  view." 


'  Loudly 

The  old  man  stormed  but  not  a  soul  was  moved, 
Nor  a  voice  raised  in  his  behalf.    Spurred  on 
By  his  wrongs  he  determined  never  to  rest 
Until  his  apathetic  or  palsied 
Country  was  aroused  to  its  awful  peril. 
"Here  was  a  blight,"  he  said,  "More  to  be  feared 
"Than  leprosy,  and  if  we  have  a  choice 
"Of  who  we  shall  recognize  as  tyrant — 
"But  must  have  tyranny  at  all  hazards, — 
"let  us  serve  capital  and  refinement 
'Rati.t  -  than  labor  and  brutality." 


I  1»3 


THE  PATRIOT'S  LAMENT. 

I  WEEP  for  my  country — I  groan  in  despair, 
That  tyranny  thrives  in  a  region  so  fair : 
And  oh  such  a  tyrant !     I  blush  for  its  shame, 
Since  ignorance  sullies  my  country's  good  name. 

I  weep  for  my  country — I  weep  and  grow  sad. 
That  merit  should  languish,  and  gentleness  fade; 
While  brazen  and  brutal — in  loudness  and  lust, 
The  emptiest  heads  lord  it  over  the  just. 

I  weep  for  my  country — intelligent  once, 

But  now  of  all  countries  the  veriest  dunce : 

That  quarrels  with  the  wealth  that  within  it  is  stored, 

And  takes  from  true  labor  its  honest  reward. 


I  weep  for  my  country — whence  mercy  is  flown — 
That  crown  of  past  greatness  is  no  longer  known : 
Should  downtrodden  negro  or  mongol  offend; 
E'en  priests  from  the  pulpit  his  death  would  defend. 

I  weep  for  my  country — whose  honor  is  dead ; 
Whose  highest  ambition  is  Union  man's  bread. 
"Less  work  and  more  pay"  is  the  motto  today 
That  spurs  our  once  world  power  to  civil  affray. 


I  weep  for  my  country — I  weep  while  I  pray 
That  Heaven  will  release  her  from  demagogue's  sway : 
For  where  such  may  rule  sweet  refinement  grows  shy. 
And  Learning — Art — Science — Invention — all  die. 


[  157  ] 


I  weep  for  my  country— and  oh  that  my  tears, 
Could  turn  into  prophets  to  silence  my  fears : 
Foretelling  disaster  to  blatant-mouthed  pride, 
Now  wielding  a  sceptre  where  freedom's  denied. 

I  weep  for  my  country— and  would  that  my  blood 
In  martyrdom  shed  might  redound  to  her  good : 
For  then  woui  1  I  rally  to  Liberty's  cause; 
And  rescue  my  country  from  Union  made  laws. 

I  weep  for  my  country— and  tho'  I  face  death, 
Denouncing  its  tyrant  with  every  breath ; 
Yet  gladly  I'll  die  for  posterity's  sake : 
That  it  may  from  basest  of  serfdom  awake. 


[  158  ] 


PART  11 


n 


Bill  Sykes  was  born  in  Chicago     To  say 

When,  within  a  year  or  two,  was  as  hard 

For  Bill  to  do  as  fur  any  one  else. 

His  great  massive  frame ;  his  large  coarse  features, 

His  furtive  blue  eyes  or  his  thin  blonde  hair 

Gave  no  indication  of  the  winters 

That  had  come  and  gone  since  he  was  brought  forth. 

He  had  never  seen  his  father.     Indeed, 

So  far  as  Bill  was  concerned,  what  mattered? 

His  mother,  a  low  type  Polish  woman, 

Who  had  early  been  killed  in  a  street  brawl 

Had  been  cruel  enough  to  serve  for  both. 

He  did  not  even  know  his  father's  name 
But  had  gone  by  his  mother's  maiden  name 
Until  once  when  making  his  bread  himself 
As  a  street  Arab  makes  it,  he  was  caught 
By  the  police  in  a  melee  with  waifs 
And  put  in  the  lock-up.    The  evidence 
Showed  him  up  in  such  a  disgusting  light 
That  the  Judge  referred  to  him  in  the  name 
Of  Dickens's  most  brutal  character. 
And  it  stuck  to  him  thereafter  because 
Of  the  unpronounceableness  of  the  one 
He  had  to  that  time  been  wearing. 


To  him 
The  name  was  a  relief.     He  had  never 
Read  Dickens's  works  and  even   if  he  had 
The  character  after  whom  he  was  called 
Was  more  or  less  his  ideal.     Besides 
It  was  so  much  easier  to  say  "Sykes" 
And  whatever  was  easy  he  admired. 
That  had  always  been  his  long  suit.    His  size 
And  pugnacious  disposition  ever 
Gave  him  prominence  among  his  fellows. 

[  161  ] 


MICROCOW   RESOLUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


Hi  |2j8 

15.0     ^^^™ 

16,3 

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2.2 

1.8 


^  APPLIED  \h/\AGB    Inc 

52  1653  East   Main  Street 

r.iS  Rochester,    New    York         14609       USA 

ja  (716)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 

3S  (716)   288  -  S9B9  -  Fax 


He  never  vas  apprenticed  to  a  trade, 

But  by  sheer  force  of  presumption  he  soon 

Grew  intimate  enough  with  hammer  and  saw 

To  bully  his  way  as  a  carpenter. 

By  joining  the  Union  this  was  further 

Assured;  and  thus  Bill  began  his  career. 

And  such  a  career !     Schooled  as  he  had  been 
In  the  slums;  surrounded  in  his  boyhood 
By  conditions  that  led  up  to  the  riots 
In  Chicago  in  the  early  Eighties; 
In  at  the  beginning  of  Unionism 
On  his  arrival  at  manhood's  estate : 
His  nature  which  was  all  animal  took  sides 
At  once  in  the  great  fight  between  labor 
And  capital.    It  was  the  very  outlet — 
The  one  channel  by  which  his  base  desires 
Might  be  accomplished  and  yet  his  life  seem 
To  be  governed  by  preconceived  design. 
Without  a  particle  of  fine  feeling, 
Without  a  suggestion  of  religion. 
Here  was  the  opportunity  that  placed 
Numbers  at  his  back  in  case  of  trouble ; 
And  a  cudgel  in  his  hands  at  all  times 
With  which  to  get  even  with  human  kind 
For  his  having  been  ushered  into  being 
A  nondescript  and  an  outcast.    Envious 
Of  wealth  but  not  quite  ambitious  enough 
To  acquire  it,  it  was  always  a  feast 
Or  a  famine  with  him. 


Lazy,  unkempt. 
Immoral,  but  sufficiently  astute 
To  hide  behind  a  hypocrite's  bluster, 
He  was  just  the  kind  to  incite  to  crime 
And  bloodshed  and  all  kinds  of  anarchy 

[  162] 


And  yet  to  keep  himself  safe  in  the  background. 
Every  vice  was  his,  and  no  father 
Ever  trusted  him  near  his  home  or  children 
Without  bemoaning  the  gruesome  contact. 
It  was  only  in  a  gathering  of  men, 
United  for  the  on2  selfish  purpose 
Of  advancing  themselves  at  any  cost- 
Without  regard  for  their  neighbor  nor  yet 
Without  regard  to  even  the  higher  call 
Of  their  country  or  civilization,— 
That  a  man  like  Bill  Sykes  could  ever  have 
Any  weight.    In  the  Union  he  often  spoke 
And  seldom  failed  of  his  object. 


His  first 
Great  hit  was  made  when  on  one  occasion 
He  complained  of  one  of  the  union  men 
For  having  worked  too  hard  and  set  a  pace 
That  the  rest  of  the  gang  had  to  follow. 
The  member  complained  of,  being  well  trained 
And  naturally  quick  in  his  action, 
Was  unable  even  after  complaint 
To  amend  his  course  to  suit  Bill ;  and  so 
At  the  next  meeting  of  the  local  lodge, 
After  a  stormy  discussion  in  which 
Bill  was  the  chief  prosecution,  and  urged 
His  three  pet  theories:  decrease  of  output; 
To  loaf  is  true  liberty;  and  that  here 
Was  a  toady  who  needed  expulsion: 
The  question  was  put  to  a  vote  and  Bill 
Was  a  glorious  victor.     From  thenceforth 
The  too  honest  worker  had,  as  "a  scab," 
To  make  a  precarious  living.    His  fate 
Was  that  of  many  with  whom  the  future 
And  Bill  had  to  deal. 


[  163  1 


Not  long  after  this 
The  movement  for  an  eight-hour  day  began, 
And  the  Council  to  which  Bill  belonged 
Was  among  the  first  to  boost  it  along. 
Loudly  he  talked  in  its  favor  and  soon 
It  had  taken  on  enough  strength  to  act. 
It  was  Bill  who  first  proposed  that  a  strike 
Be  ordered  unless  less  hours  were  allowed; 
And  ere  long  his  proposal  was  law. 
Then  began  the  first  organized  conflict 
In  which  Bill  acted  against  capital. 

Without  a  family,  used  to  dire  want, 
With  no  ambition  to  bother  or  shame 
Him  in  his  actions,  he  was  untrammelled 
And  consequently  vindictive  and  hot 
In  the  contest.    Scathing  in  his  rebukes 
Of  any  cessation  of  hostility, 
Me  soon  became  by  sheer  aggressiveness 
The  Leader.     Such  a  hold  did  he  at  last 
Obtain  that  it  was  ominous  indeed 
For  anyone  to  oppose  his  wishes. 


One  night  after  a  month  of  vain  struggle 
Had  elapsed,  one  of  the  members  appeared 
In  dire  distress  and  beseeched  the  union 
To  give  in  or  else  increase  the  per  diem; 
As  on  the  very  day  the  strike  began 
His  aged  father  and  mother  had  met 
With  a  street  car  accident.    Instant  death 
Resulted  to  the  one  while  the  other 
Was  now  lying  dangerously  injured 
And  kept  alive  only  by  most  careful 
Attention.    His  wife  was  about  to  be 
Delivered  of  her  fifth  child  and  hunger 

[  164] 


Was  pinching  the  faces  of  the  others. 
It  was  simply  necessity  with  him 
And  unless  they  gave  him  instant  relief 
He  must  go  back  to  work.    A  proposal 
To  allot  him  an  extra  allowance 
Was  laughed  to  scorn  by  Bill. 

"Every  man 
"Would  have  the  same  kind  of  story  to  tell 
"Before  a  week  was  out  if  such  were  done. 
"I'll  be  damned  if  I'll  listen  to  such  talk. 
"We  are  on  strike  for  a  great  principle 
"And  any  man  who  scabs  will  not  scab  long." 
The  stricken  member  passed  out  and  next  day 
It  was  reported  he  was  at  w  -k. 
That  night,  on  his  way  homi    he  was  waylaid 
And  the  next  morning  his  body  was  found 
Beaten  black  and  blue.    On  his  coat  was  pinned 
A  paper  with  the  words :  "To  hell  with  scabs." 
The  police  arrested  Bill  and  tried  him 
For  the  murder.    "He  made  a  threat,"  they  said— 
And  "the  writing  on  the  paper  was  his." 
An  alibi  was  well  proved,  however, 
By  a  dozen  well  tutored  witnesses 
And  a  jury  of  strike  sympathizers 
Tu;ned  him  loose  once  i.iore  victorious. 


?revailed  and  Bill  thereby  was  a  hero. 
He  was  called  from  one  local  to  another 
Throughout  the  land  to  exhort  and  direct 
Similar  movements.    Instead  of  working 
At  his  trade  he  was,  as  he  most  desired, 
A  professional  striker.     The  varied 
Tricks  of  the  calling  became  his  by  rote, 
And  he  succeeded  most  remarkably 

[  165  ] 


The  strike 


i  '4  . 

It 


J 


tr 


In         his  undertakings.     Over  the  land 

He  .oamed  from  Maine  to  Florida.    And  from 

Washington  to  California.     Unionism 

Grew  day  by  day  under  his  strong  methods. 

The  weaklings  or  finer  natures,  who  dar«.d 

To  suggest  impediments  or  refused 

To  adopt  the  system  of  cruelty, 

Coercion  and  crime  which  he  urged,  soon  learned 

That  he  ruled  with  a  hand  of  iron.    Death, 

Either  quick  or  by  starvation  degrees. 

Was  the  punishment  of  open  rebellion. 

It  did  not  matter  to  Bill  who  he  crushed 

In  his  long,  triumphal  march. 


Blood,  Blood,  Blood! 
Was  his  appetite.    The  Union  system 
Gave  him  the  chance  to  assuage  his  great  thirst 
Indiscriminately.     The  narrow  minds 
Of  the  majority  of  Union  men 
Failed  to  detect  the  dire  desolation 
That  success  meant  for  them.    The  businesses 
By  which  they  were  employed  dwindled  and  failed; 
The  materials  necessary  to  life 
Grew  dearer;  munificence  of  the  rich 
To  institutions  for  the  old,  the  blind, 
The  poor  and  the  decrepit  grew  less  free, 
And  the  expense  of  maintenance  was  placed 
Upon  those  unable  to  afford  it. 
Capital  sought  other  lads  more  secure 
For  places  of  investment ;  researches 
For  the  developm.ent  of  science  and  art 
Were  losing  their  impetus;  a  distrust 
Was  growing  among  professional  men 
Lest  the  increasing  violence  of  Unions 
Would  sooner  or  later  be  directed 
At  all  vho  had  a  competence,  and  so 


[  166] 


Their  services  lacked  sympathy  and  were 
That  much  less  efficient. 

Graft  and  deceit, 
Hurry-to-get-rich  and  out  of  harness, 
Began  more  and  more  to  influence  men 
Who  held  office,  and  who  handled  the  cash 
Of  the  people.    The  old  time  notions  of  fame 
Except  for  that  of  a  Ner.i  were  lost. 
The  restrictions  the  Union  placed  on  work 
With  a  view  to  curtailing  the  output, 
And  the  compulsory  methods  in  force 
As  to  promotion  by  seniority, 
Deadened  all  natural  desire  to  excel 
Amongst  arti.sans  and  killed  invention. 
Thus  the  increasing  comforts  that   follow 
In  the  wake  of  diligent  industry, 
And  healthy  emulation  were  lessened 
By  tendencies  to  laziness  and  ease, 
And  the  Union  man's  family  suffered 
Equally  with  the  rest  of  human  kind. 


The  children  of  the  Union  man  imbibed 

Hatred  of  anything  that  might  be  higher 

Than  manual  labor,  with  their  mother's  milk. 

Merchants  for  protection  against  boycott 

Made   secret    combinations    resulting 

In  the  overthrow  of  competition. 

Preachers  and  newspaper  men,  at  one  time 

Divinely  appointed  critics  and  guides 

Of  numanity,  became  venial 

Tools  in  the  hands  of  enthroned  ignorance. 

Desire  to  be  popular  and  distrust 

Of  that  bomb  of  conspiracy — Boycott — 

Began  to  dwarf,  cow  and  crush  the  land. 

Absolutely  fallacious  had  become 

[  167  ] 


rl 


The  national  motto.     "In  Unity 

Is  IVeakness"  became  daily  more  apparent. 

But  such  considerations  do  not  phase 
A  character  like  Bill  Sykes.     He  glories 
In  the  ruin  that  he  creates.    "God  Damn 
Humanity!"  was  his  inward  motto; 
"Down  with  the  bosses !"  is  his  Union  flag. 
And  like  sheep  led  to  slaughter  the  men 
Treat  like  a  savior  their  decoy,  and  go 
The  pace  that  can  but  end  in  Anarchy. 


11 


One  time  Bill  was  called  out  west  of  Spokane 
To  hilp  a  bridge  gang  on  the  great  divide 
To  obtain  an  eight-hour  day.    Up  to  date 
The  railroad  officials  with  whom  they  dealt 
Had  neglected  to  listen  to  complaints 
And  threatened  wholesale  discharge,  as  their  work 
Was  easy  and  could  be  done  by  Chinese. 
This  was  a  situation  somewhat  new 
To  Bill  but  he  was  quite  equal  to  it. 
While  Chinese  might  do  regular  repairs, 
It  would  take  some  skill  to  construct  new  work. 
Let  them  arrange  to  strike  at  a  moment 
When  a  fast  train  was  due  to  pass  across 
Some  bridge.     Rather  than  delay  the  express 
Their  demands  would  no  doubt  be  conceded. 
If  not — Bill  shook  his  head  knowingly — 
They  would  go  back  to  work  the  next  morning, 
As  the  U.  S.  mails  must  be  delivered. 


The  ultimatum  was  given  one  noon. 
In  accordance  with  Bill's  advice,  no  word 
Being  recei\  cd  at  four,  the  men  struck  work. 
The  bridge,  the  foreman  deci  ed  was  safe 


[  168] 


So  far  as  the  coining  train  was  concerned. 
And  he  hastened  to  wire  for  instructions. 
Ere  they  had  come,  however,  the  express 
Came  thundering  by.     As  it  reached  th.  bridge 
A  timber  suddenly  snapped,  then  a  crash 
Was  heard,  and  the  Pacific  express  train 
With  its  mails  and  human  freight  was  a  mass 
Of  debris  and  death  in  the  gulch  below. 
How  the  wreck  happened  only  Bill  Sykes  knew; 
But  the  foreman  was  put  under  arrest. 
His  trial  was  speedy.     His  refusal 
To  grant  an  eight-hour  day  was  evidence 
Sufficient,  in  the  Jury's  mind,  of  guilt ; 
Bill  was  one  of  the  loudest  accusers. 
And  he  was  sentenced  to  the  law's  limit. 
Needless  to  say  the  men  went  back  to  work 
On  their  own  terms  and  one  more  victory 
Was  added  to  the  many  that  had  been  won 
By  organized  labor. 


I'.  ' 


At  Boston,  Bill 
Also  made  himself  famous.     A  lawyer 
Formerly  known  as  the  workinpman's  friend 
And  who  had  represented  the  district 
In  Congress,  had  suddenly  been  tabooed 
By  the  Union  because  of  his  failure 
To  respond  to  an  order  of  boycott 
Against  a  barber  who  had  been  listed 
As  unfair.     The  barber's  offense  hau  been 
The  hiring  of  his  natural  brother. 
Whose  dues  to  the  Union  were  in  arrears, 
Xot  from  intention  but  because  ill  health 
Had  made  his  expenses  greater  than 
His  income.     The  barber  had  employed  him 
.Against  the  protest  of  the  other  men. 
They  left  their  chairs  and  reported  the  case 


m 


I  t69  ] 


m 


mmmmmm 


\u 


To  the  Union  and  the  Union  had  placed 
His  name  on  the  unfair  list.    For  long  year 
The  congressman  had  patronized  this  shop 
Because  he  was  the  only  artisan 
V\  iio  had  been  able  to  shave  him  with  ease 
And  was  content  to  do  the  bidding 
Of  his  customers  without  pestering 
Requests  about  nonsensical  extras. 
And  so,  when  Bill,  as  "Walking  Delegate," 
On  behalf  of  the  Union  informed  him 
That  tie  must,  as  one  of  the  customers. 
Show  his  sympathy  with  f'le  workingman 
By  going  to  another  shop;  he  asked 
For  particulars,  and  declined  point  blank 
To  uphold  the  Union  in  any  such 
Absurdity  when  he  learned  the  facts. 

Here  was  a  case  that  specially  appealed 

To   Bill's   pugnacity.     Temerity 

Such  as  this  must  be  punished.    He  who  dared 

At  this  late  day  to  question  a  Bat 

Of  the  Trades  „nd  Labor  Council  must  learn 

A  lesson.     An  election  was  coming 

And  the  Congressman's  defeat  mast  be  sure. 

Through  his  well-known  sympathy  for  labor 

And  his  admitted  skill  as  a  lawyer 

He  had  heretofore  had  a  walkover 

Wht..  he  made  a  race.    On  this  occasion, 

To  humiliate  him,  a  socialist 

Of  the  most  radical  type  was  brought  out 

As  his  opponent.     It  was  a  struggle 

For  government  by  the  poorer  classes 

Or  by  a  united  people. 


[  1?0  J 


The  "Huh," 
So  long  noted  for  its  culture,  Jiecame 
The  £^ial?lJic  position  for  a  tight 
Between  labor    nd  capital,  and  ^oon 
Every  Union  in  the  community 
Was  sendin^r  forth  its  fiats  to  tradesmen. 
Whenever  a  storekeeper  iiad  so  far 
Forgot  his  business  as  to  take  the  side 
Of  the  Congressman,  a  boycott  began 
That  soon  brought  him  to  his  senses.    Parades 
With  flying  mottoes  advertised  the  choice 
Of  the  great  ragtag  and  bobtail  classes ; 
And  the  press,  to  be  popular,  took  up 
Th    cry  of  the  mob  and  urged  that  a  change 
Was  necessary. 


Bii'.   Sykes  was  happy. 
Assessments  for  campaign  funds  were  ordered 
By  him  and  contributions  were  required 
From  every  manufacturing  concern 
That  was  run  by  Union  men.    For  the  sake 
Of  policy  the  very  victims  proposed 
By  socialistic  ideals,  gave  the  most; 
And  Bill  saw  to  it  that  his  trifling  wants 
For  personal  expenses  did  not  go 
Begging.    The  buying  of  votes  with  a  drink 
Was  the  ..ogan  of  Unionism,  and  Bill, 
As  chief  dispenser  among  the  hoboes. 
Became  a  veritable  god.    Loudly 
His  praise  was  sung  while  in  his  sleeve  he  sneered 
At  the  blatant  hot  air  of  his  worshipers, 
And  hoped  'or  the  timf  that  would  surely  come 
When  dire  liistrust  would  tear  them  asunder, 
As  they  were  now    earing  the  government. 


[  171  ] 


^! 


At  last,  Election  Day  cime.     Great  Boston 
Went  to  the  polls  ni  abject  apathy 
As  to  what  the  result  would  be.    In  vain 
Their  Congressman  called  to  their  attention 
It^hat  was  at  stake  and  how  he  had  incensed 
The  Labor  Unions  against  him.    In  vain 
He  warned  the  people  of  the  base  tyrant 
He  was  combatting  and  that  it  was  them 
Who  must  suffer  if  he  were  defeated. 
They  turned  deaf  ear  to  all  but  the  clamor 
Of  the  hoboes. 


■>  In  the  wards  where  culture 

Did  seem  to  have  some  standing,  inspectors 
Nominated  by  Bill  Sykes  held  the  sway, 
And  in  the  most  scandalous  manner  exchanged 
For  the  ballot  boxes  of  the  city. 
Boxes  especially  contrived  to  receive 
In  a  false  bottom  any  votes  well  known 
To  be  inimical.     By  this  method 
Every  ward  in  the  city  gave  large  odds 
In  favor  of  the  rabid  socialist; 
And  once  more  Bill  and  r  ^anized  labor 
Was  triumphant.     T.ie  moral  influence 
Of  so  learned  a  place  as  cultured  Boston 
Going  socialist  was  available 
In  tight  struggles  elsewhere;  and  to  Bill  Sykes 
Its  value  could  not  be  calculated. 


But   Bill  was  not   satisfied   with  defeat 
At  the  polls  of  the  erring  Congressman. 
Poverty  would  make  him  more  repentent. 
So  a  suit  for  libel  was  engineered 
For  certain  expressions  that  had  been  made 
By  the   Congressman  during  the  campaign 
That  reflected  on  the  "high"  character 

[  172  ] 


Of  his  opponent.     Punitive  damages 

We-e  asked  and  a  j     y  where  Bill  Sykes  shone 

Returned  a  verdict  that  practically 

Took  from  the  lawyer  all  that  Y     was  worth 

And  so  with  many  another  battle. 
Victory  after   victory  met    ''.ill 
At  every  turn,  and  from  place  to  place 
He  roamed  leaving  oehind  him  at  each  stop 
A  wider  swath  of  labor  Unionism 
And  a  more  ir     ise  hatred  of  capital. 


%i 


I  173  I 


THE  SONG  OF  THE   WALKING   DELEGATE. 


No  bouquets  please.     I'm  at  my  ease; 

I  never  work  over-time. 
I  am  The  Walking  Delegate: 

My  purposes  are  sublime. 
I  see  that  only  Union  men 

Get  the  paying  work  to  do; 
And  as  for  scabs  and  men  "what  blabs:" 
God  help  them  when  I  get  through. 

Yes,  I  am  The  Walking  Delegate: 

The  Labor  Union's  Joss : 
The  great  I  am — serene  and  calm — 
*  The  Nation's  Coming  Boss. 


i. 


\ 

I 


\  I 

^    i 


A  time  there  was  when  stringent  laws 

Made  of  working  men  the  scum; 
But  now,  by  God,  they  are  the  rod — 

'Tis    Labor's   millenium. 
And  here  I  am  serene  and  calm, 

The  Laborer's  happy  choice. 
With  scourge  and  lash  to  torture  cash, 

And  echo  the  Union's  voice. 


I  have  a  lease  on  the  police, 

And  I  make  them  toe  the  mark: 
If  I  but  nod  the  laborer's  hod, 

Turns  into  a  weapon  dark. 
I  name  the  Judge  upon  the  Bench, 

And  he  shows  his  gratitude 
By  savage  thrust  at  every  Trust, 

That  offers  to  treat  me  rude. 


The  Jury  box  is  where  "I  locks" 
The  men  who  are  tried  and  true; 


I  174  ] 


;    r 

:  ■  1 

;  ! 


VTE. 


Thro'  whom  I  twist  the  capitalist, 
And  plunder  his  money  too. 

I  always  mix  in  politics: 
It's  there  that  I  make  my  dough; 

I  name  the  card — and  for  reward 
They're  all  at  my  beck,  you  know. 


My  mantle  fits  the  man  who  sits 

In  the  presidential  chair: 
And  he  straightway  begins  to  play 

To  the  gods  who  put  him  there : 
I  pull  his  tail  and  without  fail 

He  starts  to  "investigate" 
And  careful  reads  how  his  great  deeds 

Suit  The  Walking  Delegate. 

The  great  free  press  is  in  duress, 

For  I  have  it  in  my  hand; 
Whoever  heard  of  unkind  word 

When  I'm  stalking  thro'  the  land. 
The  office  force  is  mine  of  course; 

And  lest  it  should  go  on  strike — 
The  editor  smiles  at  all  my  wiles— 

I  do  with  him  as  I  like. 


The  stage  likewise  may  not  despise 

The  wonderful  power  I  wield 
And  with  the  school,  which  too,  I  rule, 

Have  nothing  to  do  but  yield. 
For  if  they  make  an  open  break 

I  order  a  boycott  quick; 
And  school  or  stage  soon  lose  their  rage- 

For  a  boycott  makes  them  sick. 

I  never  pay  my  devious  way. 
When  I'm  on  the  railroad  train: 

[  175  ] 


i-'l 


"I'm  in  the  gang"  is  my  harangue 

To  the  ticket  puncher's  brain, 
The  cabbies  too,  they  try  to  do 

Their  little  mite  with  a  vim: 
So  as  THE  WALKING  DELEGATE 

I'm  strictly  in  the  swim. 

The  banker's  clerks  our  system  works 

I'm  getting  them  well  in  line; 
And  soon  you'll  hear  the  bank  clerks  cheer 

The  union's  bloodred  ensign. 
They'ire  needed  bad  to  make  us  glad. 

And  ferret  the  gold  bugs  out; 
So  for  more  pay  they'll  ask  today — 

Tomorrow  for  Union  shout. 


I've  left  but  one  real  task  undone 

Of  what  I'd  begun  to  do; 
And  for  last  prize  I'll  organize 

The  Army  and  Navy  too. 
Then  Union  joys  will  come  my  boys; 

And  into  the  bright  blue  skies 
Will  plutocrats  with  all  their  brats 

In  Column  of  Caesar  rise. 


li 


[  176  1 


r; 


I 


Earthquakes  and  fire  had  done  their  very  worst 

To  the  fair  city  by  the  Golden  Gate 

And  in  their  wake  had  come  the  greater  scourge 

Of  dishonest  government.    Unemployed 

From  all  over  the  United  States  had 

Flocked  to  Frisco  after  disaster 

And  under  Union  colors  sought  to  rule 

And  keep  out  competition.     No  tactic 

Was  left  untried  to  complete  the  ruin 

That  nature  had  begun.    Graft  and  boodle 

Among  men  in  office  went  hand  in  hand 

With  demands  for  exorbitant  wages, 

And  eight-hour  days.    Men  who  had  lost  thousands 

That  by  industry  they  had  earned  were  forced 

By  a  system  of  holdup  to  squander 

What  little  remained  on  highwaymen 

Upheld  by  Union  in  lawless  demands. 

Intimidation,  coercion  and  stealth. 

Made  short  work  of  the  millions  that  poured  in 

In  charity  from  all  parts  of  the  land, 

And  anarchy,  under  a  pseudonym, 

Was  holding  court  in  San  Francisco  daily. 

To  this  place  two  men  with  opposite  aims 
Were  at  about  the  same  time  attracted : 
Bill  Sykes,  full  of  his  anti-capital  schemes, 
And  Uncle  Sam  more  than  ever  convinced 
That  his  country's  life-blood  was  being  sapped. 
And  determined  at  all  hazards  to  fight 
Its  tyrant  wherever  he  might  find  him. 


It  was  not  very  long  before  they  met. 
Organized  labor  had  become  aware 
Of  the  presence  of  Japanese  labor 
And  Japanese  labor  was  a  sort  of  "scab" 
That  could  not  be  compelled  by  coercion. 

[  179  ] 


IIM' 


Impelled  by  the  narrowest  motives, 
Selfish  to  the  core  and  without  judgment, 
Resistance  to  Japanese   immigration 
Was  determined  upon.     Who  but  Bill  Sykes 
Could   successfully   accomplish   this   end? 
And  so  Bill  was  there  urging  the  faithful, 
And  plotting  against  the  Powers  that  be. 
Already  one  riot  had  taken  place 
Under  his  leadership,  and  another 
Was  on  the  tapis. 

A  public  meeting 
At  a  street  corner  under  direction 
Of  the  Asiatic  Exclusion  League, 
So  called— (although  organized  sub  rosa 
In  the  Labor  Union)  was  in  progress. 
And  Bill,  as  the  Walking  Delegate-in-Chief 
Specially  sent  from  the  East,  was  speaking. 
Around  the  stump  upon  which  he  harangued 
Were  gathered  a  hundred  or  more  people. 
Attracted  at  first  by  curiosity 
From  among  the  passers-by.     Committees, 
However,  with  the  object  of  the  meeting 
At  heart,  were  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd 
Diligently  soliciting  hearers; 
And  as  the  speech  progresse'  the  mob  increased 
Both  in  numbers  and  enthusiasm. 

"Men,"  said  Bill,  "Do  you  intend  to  be  starved 

"Like  rats  while  those  yellow  men  take  your  jobs? 

"Do  you  intend  to  stand  idly  aside 

"So  that  these  Brownies  may  have  lots  of  work, 

"While  your  families  are  at  home  suffering 

"For  the  necessities  of  life? 

"Who  brought  them  here?    Who  aided  them  to  come? 

"Not  the  laboring  man  for  he  don't  want 

[  180  ] 


"That  kind  of  competition.    Who's  to  blame? 

"If  you  must  know  it's  the  capitnlist. 

"Not  content  with  forming  trusts  that  grind  men 

"Into  slaves,  he  sends  secret  messengers 

"To  far-off  Japan  for  ready-made  slaves 

"And  they  are  brought  here  with  their  cheap  labor 

"And  infirmities  and  toadyism 

"To  stamp  out  whatever  manhood  is  left 

"In  the  American  laboring  man. 

"But  they  can't  do  it.     We  are  not  that  kind. 

("Not  by  a  damn  sight,"  said  one  of  the  crowd.) 

"We  are  the  people  and  we've  learned  our  place. 

"We'll  show  old  Money  Bags  where  he  is  at— 

"And  our  combination  is  flesh  and  blood ; 

"Not  dollars.    The  time  has  come  for  labor 

"To  govern.     All  signs  point  that  way  and  you 

"Don't  want  to  be  the  last  in  line.    These  Japs 

"Are  the  instruments  of  your  degradation. 

"To  heh  ./ith  them !    Until  they  are  away 

"We  can  not  increase  wages,  much  less 

"Shorten  our  day.    They  say  there  are  treaties 

"That  must  be  considered.    But  who  made  them? 

"What  do  you  and  I  care  about  such  things? 

"Treaties  are  of  no  weight  to  Union  men 

"Since  Union  men  did  not  make  them.    Who  cares 

"About  treaties  with  heathen  at  any  rate? 

"What  rights  have  they  compared  with  rights  of  oursi 

"For  my  part  I  want  my  own  kith  and  kin 

"Looked  after  first  so  long  as  they're  not  'scabs.' 

"And  treaties,  that  let  Chinks  and  Japanese 

"Take  the  good  beef  out  of  our  mouths,  can't  stand." 


"That  they  can't !"    "Damn  the  treaties !"    "We'll  sho« 

them !" 
Were  the  signs  of  the  crowd's  close  attention. 

[  181] 


p 

p 


u 


^ '  '■. 


"It  is  the  duty  of  you  workers  here 
"To  show  the  bosses  who's  who.    If  it's  Japs 
"They  want,  let  'em  have  Japs,  but  see  to  it 
"That  they're  dead  ones.     I'm  a  peaceable  man 
"Myself  but  sometim  ^  it  does  less  harm 
"To  get  rid  of  a  nuisance  at  once 
"Than  wait  for  it  to  permeate  the  air 
"That  we  and  our  families  have  to  breathe. 
"What  if  Japan  is  a  rising  nation; 
"They'll  have  to  rise  mighty  high  to  scare  me. 
■'  'We're  from  Missouri'  and  a  few  dead  Japs 
"Will  npean  live  wages  for  the  survivors, 
"It  seems  to  me." 

Loud  applause  was  brought  ouv 
By  this  sally  and  Bill  would  have  gone  on 
Had  not  a  hoary-headed  wayfarer, 
In  threadbare  garments,  shiny  and  soiled. 
Wearing  a  goatee  and  streaming  white  locks. 
Pressed  forward  and  demanded  to  be  heard. 
Thinking  that  the  old  man  was  a  convert 
Bill  gave  quick  way  to  him  in  the  belief 
That  his  age  would  lend  weight.    And  Uncle  Sam, 
For  it  was  he,  stepped  on  to  the  rostrum 
And  appealed  to  the  motley  assemblage 
In  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion: 


"Gentlemen,  I  am  an  American 
"Born  and  bred.    I  am  from  tne  Sunny  South 
"And  before  many  of  you  were  thought  of 
"I  was  fighting  for  the  independence 
"Of  that  part  to  which  I  deemed  I  owed 
"Existence  and  whatever  else  I  had 
"That  that  portion  was  protecting  for  me. 
"I  do  not  question  the  arbitrament 
"Of  our  great  war.    I  gladly  joined  my  voice 


[  182] 


"To  that  of  Gordon,  of  Grady,  of  Graves, 
"And  to  secure  a  unitti  country 
"I  sank  all  differences  in  the  hope 
'That  a  greater  America  would  arise. 


"An  America  where  the  famous  words 

"Of  the  more  famous  Lincoln  would  be  true 

"More  than  ever  before,  and  we  would  have 

"A  government  that  would  without  question 

"Be  of,  by,  and  for  a  happy  people. 

"An  America,  whose  glorious  past, 

"Shining  brighter  thro'  the  clearing  battle, 

"Would  cement  the  breaches  of  civii  war 

"And  inspire  to  a  common  destiny 

"Of  freedom,  greatness  and  prosperity. 

"An  America  where  instead  of  strife 

"For  divided  en   >,  the  only  struggle 

"Would  be  that  ot  a  united  nation 

"To  lead  an  admiring  world  in  morals, 

"In  art,  science,  learning  and  in  commerce. 

"An  America  where  honest  labor 

"Could  be  sure  of  its  reward  and  where  class, 

"Instead  of  selhshly  vieing  with  class 

"For  a  supremacy  that  means  nothing, 

"Would  be  so  graded  as  to  make  a  ladder 

"By  which  industry  might  mount  round  by  round 

"From  the  very  lowest  walk  to  the  chair 

"Of  a  loved  and  respected  president. 


"But  what  has  come  of  my  hope?    Who  is  there 
"In  these  troublous  times  will  venture  to  say 
"That  America  is  even  as  great 
"As  she  was  fifty  years  ago?     Who  dares 
"In  the  face  of  the  facts  to  testify 
"That  this  people  is  governed  by,  of  or  for 
"Its  best  interests?    Is  it  governed  at  all? 

[  183  ] 


"And  if  so,  for  whose  good  and  benefit? 

"Blatant  demagogues  would  quickly  answer 

"For  dishonest  purposes,  in  a  vray 

"That  would  heap  more  shame  on  our  condition. 

"But  I  am  here,  gentlemen,  to  speak  truth; 

"To  administer   antidotes;   to   raise 

"Before  you  a  picture  that  will  show  you 

"How  fast  are  fading  those  lofty  ideals 

"With  which  we  started  out  as  a  nation. 

"What  does  the  outside  world  see  here  today? 

"Is  it  a  glorious  or  inglorious  view? 

"Alas  for  America,  we  are  forced 

"To  humble  our  pride  and  confess  our  shame. 

"Mob  rule  runs  riot  and  is  unpunished. 
"Lynching,  and  rapine  and  conspiracy 
"Triumph   over  law  and  order.     Murder 
"And  anarchy  stalk  abroad  through  the  land. 
"First  we  cringe  and  bow  to  a  tyranny 
"Of  gold.     Then  in  righteous  indignation 
"We  fly  from  one  extreme  to  the  other 
"And  fall  backwards  while  a  baser  tyrant— 
"The  tyrant  of  ignorance— tramples  us 
"To  earth  and  we  lose  honor,  enterprise, 
"Ambition,— sacrificing    everything 
"To  prejudice  against  class,  religion, 
"Or  race,  and  a  selfishness  that  sinks  us 
"To  the  level  of  savages. 


liij 
I 


t  4 


"We  start 
"With  the  ideal  that  all  men  are  equal 
in  the  eyes  of  law.    We  demand  that  law 
"Shall  assure  us  freedom  of  speech,  freedom 
"Of  the  press;  free  migration  to  or  from 
"Our  land;   free  exercise  of  religion, 
"Whatevet   it  may  be;  no  taxation 

[  184] 


"VVitliout  representation  and  a  fair 
"Competition  in  labor  as  well  as  trade. 
"Of  all  these  shiboKnhs     .at  were  the  boast 
'  Of  early  Americans  can  you  point 
"To  one  today  thai  is  not  more  honored 
"In  the  breach  than  the  observance? 


"What  man 
"Amotig  you  will  at  once  admit  the  force 
"Of  that  war-cry  of  the  revolution, 
"And  concede  that  all  men  should  be  equal? 
"Do  we  now  open  our  gates  to  the  world 
"And  say  come  and  we  will  consider  you 
"As  one  of  ourselves  and  reciprocate 
"In  learning  from  each  other  the  virtues 
"Of  our  various  civilizations? 


"The  taxes  ot  today  are  collected 

"On   the  very  opposite  principle 

"To  those  collected  by  our   forefathers, 

"And  the  favored  who  are  represented 

"See  to  it  that  the  unrepresented 

"(Or  should  we  call  it  misrepresented) 

"Are  the  only  ones  who  are  forced  to  pay. 

"The  press  instead  of  being  free  and   frank 

"To  criticise  in  a  courteous  manner 

"What  seems  open  to  fuller  explanations 

"Becomes  the  tool  of  whoever  will  buy, 

".\nd  cwns  as  Master,  filthy  lucre, 

"Whether  coming  in  the  shape  of  Front  Page  Ads 

"Or  in  threats  of  boycott. 


"Freedom  of  speech 
"Is  now  a  myth:  and  sn  intol"- 
"Has  the  nation  become  that  eakers 

[  185  ] 


,1 


"Cj      .lope  for  a  hearing  frc  n  an  audience 

"Who  holds  views  that  are  at  all  contrary. 

"Martyrs  to  the  cause  of  a  free  speech  and  press 

"Are  daily  becoming  more  numerous; 

"But  an  apathetic  public  has  failed 

"To  see  ihus  far  that  it  is  their  freedom 

"Rather  than  a  martyr's  life  that  is  being  paid. 

"The  free  exercise  of  religious  belief — 

"That  bulwark  of  national     xistence— 

"Has  already  lost  its  prestige  with  us 

"And-  religious  persecution   obtains 

"In  the  United  States  and  is  sanctioned 

"By  the  statutes  of  the  generations 

"Now  pretending  to  make  laws  in  Congress. 

"The  Mormon  and  the  Christian  Scientist, 

"Are  not  the  only  witnesses  to  this. 

"Fair  competition  whether  in  labor 

"Or  in  trade,  which  ensures  certain  progress 

"And  guarantees  excellence  and  skill, 

"Is  now  for  Americans  almost  void; 

"And  with  combinations  of  capital, 

"And  unions  of  labor  both  against  it, 

"Is   fast  becoming  a   thing  of  the   past." 


11 


5      f 

.    t 

i 

■    i 

!     ', 

h  1  ■ 

, 

■  ,  5 

'i 

i 

[■ 

■  \\ 

H 

kii 

At  this  juncture  signs  of  disapproval 
Were  visible  in  the  throng  surrounding, 
And  Bill  Sykes,  who  had  wakened  to  the  fact 
That  the  old  man  was  not  a  unionist. 
At  all  events,  sought  to  bring  him  to  time 
And  to  the  point  'iy  shouting,  "What  about 
The  yellow  peril?"   while  Uncle  Sam  answered: 

"I'm  coming  to  that,  but  I've  something  else 
"To  say  before  I  get  there     T  told  you 
"When  I  started  out  that  I  must  speak  truth, 
"And  I  propose  to  speak  all  of  the  truth 

[  186  ] 


"On  the  line  that  was  suggested  to  me 
"By  the  words  of  the  last  speaker." 

.    _,  "Cat  calls" 

And  cries  of  "Pull  him  down"  came  from  the  crowd 
But,  nothing  daunted.  Uncle  Sam  went  on; 

"It  may  not  be  palatable  to  some 
"Who  are  before  me,  but  it  is  duty, 
"And  an   inextinguishable   affection 
"For  the  land  that  gave  me  birth,  that  forces 
"Me  to  say  that  I  believe— that  I  know 
I'From    bitter    experience— that    unionism 
"Is  a  greater  menace  to  liberty 
"Than  the  capitalism  it  seeks,  to  destroy." 

Some  hisses  from  the  audience  would  have  stopped 
A  less  earnest  speaker,  but  Um'e  Sam 
Was  thinking  of  his  murdered  wife  and  -.  \ 
And  apparently  oblivious  of  the  roujihs; 
He  burst  forth: 


I 


"There  was  a  time  in  my  life 
"vVhen  I  sympathized  with  the  working  men, 
"Of  the  big  cities  particularly, 
'^In   their  seemingly   unequal   battle 
||Against  wealth.     In  the  villages  and  towns 
"Where  I,  myself,  was  a  worker  I  saw 
"Xo  ground  for  complaint  as  with  ambition 
"I  and  any  other  laborer  could  there 
"Succeed  to  our  heart's  content.     I  now  see 
"That  the  same  conditions  surround  men 
"In  cities  as  in  town.^  and  that  the  wail 
■1  heard  was  that  simply  of  cuvy,  impatience. 

[  187  ] 


"Incompetence,  and  worse  still — intemperance — 

"Striving  to  wrest  by  dishonest  methods 

"The  plums  from  their  more  honorable  brothers. 

"I  now  regret  with  all  my  heart  and  soul 

"The  sanction  I  gave  to  the  first  Union 

"Of  labor.     For   I   find  by  dissection 

"That  if  you  take  out  of  the  Union  hall 

"All  that  have  been  forced  in  there  by  coercion, 

"You'll  have  nothing  left  but  the  four  vices 

"Already  enumerated,  and  that 

"Of  these  envy  and  incompetence 

■  Are  the  largest  product  by  easy  odds 

"Of  the  so-called  Labor  Union." 

"No,  no!" 
"Down  with  him!"  "You're  a  liar!"  and  "Prove  it!" 
Could  be  heard  over  the  dire  uproar 
That  this  thrust  caused,  and  Uncle  Sam,  aroused 
To  his  old  war  time  ardor,  loudly  cried : 

"Yes,  I'll  prove  it  if  you  will  give  me  time. 
"How  can  there  be  any  other  result 
"Than    incompetence   from   institutions 
"That  discourage  industry  and  demand 
"Promotion  by  seniority  rather 
"Than  by  merit?     How  can  aught  but  envy 
"Be    inculcated    where    antagonism 
"To  every  other  interest  but  that 
"Of   self  is  preached? 


■•I 

iff 


"If  a  Union  member, 
"Xo  matter  how  competent,  fails  to  pay 
"The  exactions   of  unionhood,  his  card 
"Is   taken   from   him,   and,   as  an  outcast, 
"His  very  livelihood  is  taken  away, 

[  188] 


w^m' 


mm 


t/ 


"And  he  is  compelled  to  humble  himself 
"And  own  that  dues  rather  than  comt>ctencc 
"Is  the  one  thing  needful,  or  starve  to  death. 
"Imprisonment  for  debt  was   long  ago 
"Considered  a  relic  of  barbarism, 
"But  Unionism  would  punish  debt  with  death. 
"It  would  flay  alive  the  man  with  money 
"Because  he  has  it;  and  for  lack  of  it 
"It  condemns  its  own  brother  to  starvation. 

"Unionism  from  a  purely  seltish  end 
"Has  taken  a  stand  against  child  labor 
"But  while  it  would  in  its  hypocrite  love 
"For  the  child  save  it  from  toil's  dire  effects, 
"It,  at  the  same  time,  would  take  from  its  mother 
"What  chance  she  has  of  an  honest  living; 
And  force  her  on  the  street  to  ruin 
"Rather  than  have  her  lower  Union  pay. 
"What   unselfish   principle,   I   demand, 
"Has  the  Labor  Union  fought  for? 


"Tell  me, 
"If  you  can,  of  one  universal  good 
"That  has  been  given  to  mankind  by  the  strength 
"Of   a   combination   so   comprehensive? 
"On  the  other  hand  I  might  startle  you 
"With  details  of  disaster  so  shocking 
"That,  were  your  hearts  not  steeled  against  the  shame 
"You  would  weep  with  me  for  your  falling  country. 
".i\nd  these  disasters  are  the  necessary 
■Results  of  the  Union's  lack  of  justice— 
"To  say   nothing  of  its   lack  of   wisdom 
"Or  mercy.     The  death  of  a  hundred  odd 
"Is  of  small  moment  to  telegraphers 
"Who  are  bent  on  more  wages  for  less  time 
"And  they  strike  on  and  the  Quebec  bridge  falls 

[  189] 


"With  its  loss  of  life  and  destruction 
"Of  the  people's  treasure  as  an  effect. 
"The  convict,  to  suit  a  Union  brother, 
"Must  live  in  idleness,  scheming  more  crime, 
"Rather  than  by  useful  toil   form  habits 
"Of  industry  to  ensure  his  reform. 

"The   foreigner,   to   whom   America 

"Owes  its  very  distinctiveness  of  race 

"Ahd  those  parts  of  which  it  specially  boasts, 

"Is  now  an  enemy  from  the  Union  view; 

"And  America  for  Americans 

"Is  the  rallying  cry  of  the  demagogues. 

"Every  civilization  has  its  gains 

"And  no  alien  can  come  to  our  country 

"Who  does  not  bring  with  him  some  attribute 

"That  liberalizes  and  enlarges  us 

"In  one  way  or  another." 

"How    about 
The  Japanese?"  shouted  a  listener. 
But  Uncle  Sam  heedless  of  the  ferment 
And  impatience   of  his  large   audience 
Took  no  notice  of  the  interruption. 


"America  as  a  whole  must  profit 
"By  every  immigrant  that  enters  it. 
"And  it  will  require  no  expulsion  acts 
"To  keep  him  out  when  that  condition  ends. 
"If  we  are  Christians  or  if  we  worship 
"At  e'en  lower  shrines,  our  religious  views 
"Alone  will  plead  for  the  lowly  stranger 
"Who  we  find  within  our  gates.    A  just  God 
"Must  protect  His  people  whether  they  be 
"White,  black,  brown,  yellow  or  red,  and  to  Him 

[  190  ] 


^«»iwi  iiiiiwfc  mmmttim 


'^^V^V^H 


"And  you,  aye,  you,  who  would  now  stop  my  mouth 
If  you  could,  may,  ere  you  know,  be  victims 
Of  the  same  far-reaching  conspiracy." 
Paee  191. 


"Intoleration  and  race  prejudice 

"Are  crimes  that  may  not  be  left  unpunished. 

"Injustice  invariably  recoils 

"Upon  itseli',  and  that  civilization 

"Which  seeks  to  appropriate  for  itself 

"What  was  meant  for  mankind  has  missed  its  mark 

"And  must  be  trampled  by  a  progr(_ss 

"That  is  universal. 


"Right  must  prevail. 
"The  Lilliputian  squeaks  of  mere  cheese  thieves 
"Cannot  change  the  plans  of  Almighty  God. 
"The  man  who  urges  you  to  kill  off  Japs 
"As  though  they  were  so  many  dogs  has  urged 
"Other  men  to  kill  off  and  undermine 
"The  negroes  whom  their  fathers  had  captured 
"In   Africa  and  dragged   here  unwillingly 
"To  work  just  as  they  now  are  working— 
"And  why  forsooth?     Because  a  prejudice 
"Against  another  race  assists  for  a  time 
"The  theory  of  reduced  competition. 

"But  the  time  will  come— in  fact  it  is  here,— 

"When  the  same  selfisl;  theory  will  neea 

"Not  even  race  prejudice  to  say  wiio 

"Shall  or  shall  not  have  a  right  to  exist. 

"And  you,  aye,  you,  who  would  now  stop  my  mouth 

if  you  could,  may,  ere  you  know,  he  victims 
"Of  the  same   far-reaching  conspiracy. 
"I  warn  you  against  the  base  demagogues 
"Who  under  the  guise  of  saving,  would  lead  you 
"To  your  doom.    They  are  all  like  Bill  Sykcs  there, 
"Who  does  not  remember  m^  in  the  poverty 
'  which  he  is  i:     cause.     But  they're  like  him 
^y — Thieves,  couspirators.  assassins—" 


I  191  ] 


As  the  last  word  fell  from  the  speaker's  lips 
A  rock  from  the  direction  .n  which  Sykes 
Had  been  standing  struck  Uncle  Sams  temple. 
And  he   fell  dead,  simultaneously 
With  a  shout  from  the  crowd  of  "There  they  go! 
As  a  party  of  Japanese  passed  by. 
A  commotion  at  once  ensued  and  stones 
Were  flying  through  the  air  in  all  directions. 
When  Bill,  taking  advantage  of  the  not, 
Called  the  attention  of  the  police. 
As  they  arrived  to  quell  the  disturbance. 
To  the  prostrate  body  of  Uncle  Sam 
And  stated  in  the  most  plausible  manner, 
How  the  "poor  old  man"  had  been  struck  down 
By  one  of  the  missiles  hurled  by  the  Japs; 
And  in  those  tones  of  injured  innocence 
That  he  had  many  times  before  summoned 
To  his  aid,  Bill  demanded  that  all  Japs 
In  the  city  be  imprisoned  until 
Such  time  as  the  one  who  killed  Uncle  Sam 
Had  confessed. 


I  m  I 


GOD  RULES 

Republican  or   Democrat!     What   matter   which   has 

sway? 
Or  Populist  or   Socialist— give  every  dog  his  day. 
Their  reigns  will  be  like  puflfs  of  smoke  that  partly 

hide  the  sun : 
And  while  they  wrangle  o'er  the  spoils— behold  their 

day  is  done! 
Each  foolish  set  gives  place  in  turn  to  other  sets  of 

fools : 
But  Heaven  be  praised  above  them  all,  unmoved  by 

mobs,  GOD  RULES. 

The  Prohibitionist  expands  by  one  wholesale  restraint; 
The  Independent  vaunts  his  fill  of  lack  of  party  taint; 
The  Suffragette  would  lead  the  land— if  once  her  sex 

could  vote; 
And   Labor   Parties    fair  or   foul    would   clutch   their 

country's  throat: 
But  give  each  time  and  soon  or  late  they'll   fail  like 

other  tools, 
And  on  the  tomb  wherein  they  lie  we'll  read  the  words : 

GOD  RULES. 

It  matters  not  what  name  we  give  to  temporary  place; 
All  human  systems  must  result  in  near  or  far  disgrace: 
Just  give  them  vent  and  uncurbed  rein,  and  lo!   their 

boasted  strength 
Will  be  the  very  stumbling  block  that  trips  them  up  at 

length 
Above  the  din,  above  the  strife,  above  the  bloody  pools, 
Thank  God  loved  Truth  must  win  at  last  and  prove  to 

man:  GOD  RULES. 


[  193  ] 


Vain  prejudice  of  race  and  class,  vile  lust  for  graft  and 
power ; 

Base  arrogance  of  petty  wealth— each  have  their  short- 
lived hour: 

And  even  Law,  man's  greatest  pride,  in  turn  grows 
weak  and  falls — 

ALL,  all  are  parts  of  one  great  whole  whose  end  faint 
hope  appalls: 

Eternal  mills  are  grinding  slow  our  laws,  our  creeds, 
our  schools. 

Till  each  gives  place  to  higher  things— for  over  all, 
GOD  RULES. 


I   IW  I 


